("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text ------------------------------------------------------- Copyright (c) 2015 - All rights are reserved for the author who claims exclusive use. Permission to repost or print for profit is not granted. The story may not be reposted for any reason without express written permission of the author. Please contact the author with any questions. -------------------------------------------------------- Is Life Really That Unfair? by SecretDCGuy (secretdcguy@hotmail.com) *** In the spirit of the "Always With Me" series, two 20- somethings who are each battling their own demons are thrown together in a club. Ironically, they vaguely knew each other years before. Now can one night change the lives of a former cheerleader and the guy who used to be one of the invisible kids? (MF, rom) *** Authors note: This story is inspired by the "Always with Me" series. Here we get a glimpse into the lives of two of JJ Jenkins and Brian Schaffer's old classmates. It also involves some characters from that series. If you want to learn more about their stories, take a look at my page: www.asstr.org/~Secret_DC_Guy. *** Steve's First Impression... If it was really her, life was truly unfair. JJ Jenkins had been one of the most popular girls in high school. Any guy would have been lucky to have her. The problem was that she spent two and a half years dating the quarterback who turned out to be a fag anyway. Then all of a sudden they break up after the prom and she runs away with someone who was just as big a nerd as he was. Yeah, she and Brian Schaffer had been neighbors, but really, why did that make Brian better than him. Thinking about it was depressing. Most nights he would have been content to be at the club, being wingman for his best friends and picking up the crumbs that they dropped. The less attractive friend was usually more interesting anyway, and most of them were out to prove something. If their friend could get laid, so could they. It was amusing how he actually got more than either of his friends. But tonight was different. Sitting at the bar as his friends danced with woman after woman—the main attraction of the club tonight, he was seeing JJ Jenkins stirring a drink talking with a bunch of other girls. Most of them he didn't recognize, probably friends from college or something, but one of them was Megan—what's her last name—from the cheerleading team, the one everyone thought was a dyke. And then there was that other girl. He didn't know who she was, but she looked damn familiar. He wasn't drinking. This Friday wasn't a good night for that. Instead he had his buddy the bartender slip him glasses of lemonade from a private stash behind the bar. Man, life was depressing. Then she was walking to the bar. JJ Jenkins was coming towards him. He had heard the stories; he remembered the wedding announcement; and there was no chance Brian Schaffer would let her go. But he had to try. When the hottest girl from his high school sat down to rest while waiting for drinks, he would have to talk with her. "JJ Jenkins?" he shouted over the pounding music as he walking towards her. "Schaffer, actually," she yelled turning towards him. A part of his heart fell onto the filthy floor, where spilled beer disintegrated fallen napkins into mud. She was still with him. It was just another time he would not get the hot girl. "Wait, I know you," she said, looking at him again. "Steve Michaels! Oh my God! I haven't seen you in years. What are you doing down here?" Well, at least she remembered. That was something. He told her he lived here now, working in a satellite office of a big New York advertising firm. He told her how much he loved the industry and how much he loved the city. He left out the details of being exiled from the city he really wanted to be in after failing to make a deadline on his first big project. The introduction of a new brand of toothpaste had to be delayed. The firm still believed in him though, so they shipped him off to DC so he could learn the art of creating political advertisements. There had to be something more. JJ was super sweet to him, explaining how she and Brian had graduated college and had just taken over her father's company. JJS Enterprises, a firm that took your property development from conceptualization through building—no need for another company. Apparently, they were doing quite well. As she talked, he couldn't figure out if she was really that sweet of a girl or if she was taking pity on him. The best he could do was just sit there and listen. Sara's First Impression... Of course, JJ was talking with some guy. She was totally devoted to her husband, but still seemed to attract all of the cute guys. Well maybe this one wasn't attractive in the classic sense, but she liked a bit of a geeky look. In high school, she had been the good cheerleader, dating athletes and other popular kids, but she knew that none of them were really for her. She just couldn't date anyone like that until after graduation. The guy she had her sights set on was Brian Schaffer, whom she knew was JJ's best friend. Often, she tried to find a way to get JJ to invite her to hang out with her and Brian. But the offer never came. JJ seemed to be more protective of Brian than she was with her boyfriend. Then on graduation night when she was finally prepared to ask Brian out even though he was actually dating JJ. That relationship wouldn't last though, JJ was going to the University of Virginia and Brian hadn't finished high school too well. He would have to be going to some local school. But then, JJ and Brian never showed up for any of the parties. The next day rumor had it that they had eloped. It was kind of true. They came back engaged and announcing that they were going to the same school, the Capitol University. That was the worst part. Brian and JJ got out of that boring town. Actually, it seemed that the area's biggest export was college graduates. She desperately wanted to be one of them, and this was the city in which she wanted to be. She had always wanted to be a nurse, even though her best subjects were history and government. So when the chance came to go on a two week summer program before senior year she jumped at it. She would have preferred something science related, but there were other kids who were really good at that too. Instead, with a group of other kids she had traveled by bus to Philadelphia, Lancaster, York, and Baltimore tracing the routes of the Continental Congress as it moved around during the Revolution. The final stop was in Washington, DC. As she and one of the other girls stared out the window of their hotel, which was just across the river from Georgetown, she was drawn to the city. Though 'lights out' was at 9:00 PM she and the other girl somehow managed to sneak out. They crossed the bridge into Georgetown and were bombarded with nightlife they had never seen before. There were restaurants with 20- somethings in the latest fashions, bars with men in suits, and the sweet sound of jazz pouring out of an alley. An older man, she wasn't sure how old, saw them and asked if they would accompany him for the evening. Though he seemed a bit creepy, the other girl jumped at the chance. They went with him to a restaurant where she had oysters on the half shell for the first time. The first one was disgusting, but after five more she had a new favorite food. The man was even able to get her a glass of white wine. At the parties back home she would practically gag on the pink wine in a box that someone would inevitably bring. This one was smooth and fruity though. She wanted another, but the man said no. After dinner, he put them in a cab back to the hotel. He had been the consummate gentleman. Things didn't work out though. Though she was accepted to Immaculate Heart University on a full scholarship where she planned on studying nursing, she didn't end up going. Her father had been an alcoholic for as long as she could remember and hadn't worked in years. On Christmas Eve her senior year, he was drunk and angry. Her mother had planned an early dinner so she could go to Midnight Mass, but her father wanted sex that night, so there was a terrible fight. It culminated with him pulling down the Christmas tree and burning all the presents in the backyard fire pit. In the morning, her mother was gone along with her younger brother and sister. All that was left was a note saying, "Dearest Sara, please finish high school, then get out of there. I can't tell you where we're going, but I will find you when I can." That was the last she had ever heard from any of them. Going away to college was now out of the question. Her father spent most of his time obliterated, and someone needed to support him. She tried to get him disability, but he wouldn't even go to the hearings. She was desperate. When one night after a football game, one of the player's fathers offered to help her out if she would spend the night with him, she said yes. Luckily, JJ had overhead what happened. That night when the guy came to pick her up, an ancient looking black man confronted him on the street. After a quick conversation the football player's father took out a wad of money, gave it to the black man, got in his car, and sped away. The black man then came to her door and gave her the money, saying, "Amos Jones believes this belongs to you." For the rest of high school every Friday there was an envelope of money slipped through the mail slot. However, after graduation she needed to get out of the house—to not live with that man any more. So while going to the community college for her nursing degree, she worked full time in the men's department of a department store at the local mall. On many nights after her shift ended but before she drove back to the efficiency apartment she shared with two other girls, she would sit in her car at the edge of the parking lot looking out over the lights of the valley wishing something would change. Eventually, something did—email. As she was finishing up school, a friend of a friend had started a company that for a small price would give you internet service and email. It was a godsend. At first it was nice just to read bulletin boards about what was going on in the world, but eventually she began to feel connected with the world again. A chance encounter with JJ's mother turned out even better. When the conversation ended with the requisite "tell her I said hi", JJ's mother ended up giving her JJ's email address. From there things began to look up, as she was able to start writing to an old friend. Unfortunately, just as it looked like her life was getting better, everything came crashing down again. Amazingly, one night her father was sober enough to walk out of the bar and get in a car. It became a tragedy though when he hit a car carrying a family of five. The accident was so bad that everyone involved was killed. There was no lawsuit, but Sara's life was ruined. She now had a house in which to live, but was a pariah in the town. For almost two years she did little besides go to her job at a local nursing home, wiping the shit off of old women's asses, and stay in the house watching TV. Occasionally, she would go out, but whenever she met a guy he would bolt as soon as he learned her name. Then one day there was an email from JJ inviting her to come down to DC for a girls' weekend. It might not be the opportunity of a lifetime, but it was a chance to visit the city of which she dreamed, possibly for the last time. So that brought her to tonight, standing with a bunch of girls who could never understand her while she watched JJ Schaffer talking the ear off of some cute guy. In a moment of jealousy and desperation she decided to go over and talk to the guy as well. "Sara! Guess who this is?" JJ asked, when she joined them at the bar. The guy looked familiar, but at this point it had been so long since she had had a date, much less sex, she really didn't care. Instead, it was a matter of sticking up for her pride. She shrugged and said, "No." "Of all people, this is Steve Michaels from high school!" she shouted over the music. Then she recognized him. He was a nominal friend of Brian Schaffer and by extension JJ. He was cute and a bit of a geek, just the kind of guy she knew she should have dated back then. As they exchanged greetings, feelings of the failure of the past seven years overcame her. However, she kept them bottled up inside. She didn't want to look like the emotional wreck of a friend who was going to dump her problems on some guy she hadn't seen in years. When Steve offered to buy each of them a drink, she accepted. JJ, on the other hand, smiled and said she didn't really drink. With a wink, she excused herself back to her friends. JJ had left her with this guy. Steve's lament... He should have known it would come to this. Though it was obvious that JJ was going home to Brian Schaffer at the end of the night, he at least thought he might be able to spend the night talking with her at the bar. Then when he talked to his friends the next day, he could tell them that it was a girl he knew from high school and make up some excuse for not taking her home. But now when he had just offered to buy JJ and her friend—what was her last name—a drink, and JJ had walked away. He must have come off like some kind of prick trying to seduce a married woman. Now he was stuck sharing a drink with this girl that apparently he should have remembered from high school but didn't. For a few minutes he tried to remember anything about her, but nothing came. Then he remembered, Sara Parker was about the most stuck up girl in his class. She only dated the most popular guys for much of school. The senior year she stopped dating them as well. Rumor was that she was dating some college guy. She never would have given a guy like him the time of day, probably didn't even notice him. Now though, he was stuck talking with her while she finished the drink. At first the conversation was worse than anyone could expect for a bar conversations. He really didn't know anything about her, and she probably didn't even remember him. So at first all they could talk about was JJ and Brian. That was fine; it was shallow enough that there was not really a commitment to anything other than finish their drinks. That seemed to be one of the hard parts though. This girl seemed to be taking excruciatingly long to finish her drink. It seemed that she would only take a drink when he his attention was on something else. By looking at her glass, he could tell that she was taking gulps. There was nothing worse than a sloppy drunk girl. Knowing his luck, she'd want to come back to his place and he'd end up playing nursemaid as she worshiped the porcelain god. Hot though a girl might be, you can't sleep with her if she's falling over drunk. Then, just his luck, the damn bartender spills her drink and gives her some pink fruity thing 'compliments of the house'. Then of course there had to be an awkward turn in the conversation—always, an awkward turn. She had been talking about how surprised she was when JJ and Brian ran off together and was a little upset that JJ didn't tell her beforehand. Then she says, "I guess I shouldn't be mad. JJ helped me out so much when my mother left." Then silence. He waited for her to say more, like how JJ helped her, but nothing came. The worst part was that there may have actually been something interesting to talk about with her. With what little he knew, he figured that she came from one of those perfect families where the mother baked muffins every Saturday morning. But if she had a screwed up family life, they may actually have something in common. College had been hard enough. He was smart, but Columbia and NYU were far out of the question. Instead, the closest he could get to New York City was Long Island or Northern Jersey. He picked a school in the latter to study advertising, but for four years felt like he was continuously being taunted by the lights of the city skyline, a place he wanted to be, but never would get to. But then after graduation he was offered a job there. Some alumnus had seen his senior project and loved it. Suddenly, he had the opportunity to work with a big advertising firm. Life was going to work out the way he hoped it would. But of course, good things never happened to him. No one from his family had been to college. His father owned a propane delivery company and did fairly well, so he saw no need for any more than a high school education. His mother was a housewife who had gone right from her father's house to her husband's house. Both of his older brothers had gone into the service and were serving out tours overseas. That's where the problem came in. His father didn't think that either of the brothers would come back, so he was the designated heir to the family business. However, a life of driving a trunk around trailer parks in the countryside was far from appealing. When he told his parents he was taking the job, there was a fight. He ended up storming out of the house he grew up in at nine o'clock in the evening, and managed to get a friend down the street to give him a ride to the bus station where he got the last bus to New York. They hadn't spoken since. As the pause became more pronounced, he took a second to look at her. Her hair was straight. It looked nice, but was obviously cut so she could get it ready quickly. He remembered it being different in high school—bangs curled under and crimped, long blonde hair stiff with hair spray, basically the same as every other girl back then. The way she wore her hair today though was not childish. There was seriousness in it, as if it was saying she knew what the world was really like. Washington DC was a city where people pretend to be serious, but few people actually are. The city is a game that everyone you met was playing. This woman in front of him was not playing that game. Suddenly, he was getting nervous. Since he had screwed up his job in New York and been exiled to this city, he was looking for someone who saw past the façade of everything being OK. Just from her hair and a few early wrinkles around her eyes, he could tell that the still beautiful woman in front of him was the kind of woman he was looking for. It was ironic that she would be here for the night and then be gone. Twenty minutes earlier he had been trying to see if he could get the most popular girl from high school to give him the time of day. Now he was having the "getting to know you conversation" with a different girl from back then. It had only been 7 years, but it felt like a lifetime. Now he didn't even know whether to ask about her life today or about the childhood he probably should have seen. Still though, he wanted the conversation to go on. A moment later he regretted asking the shallow question that begins every meeting in DC, "So what do you do?" Her response was so unlike anything he got from women in the city. Instead of trying to make herself seem like the most important person on the planet, she was very straight forward about what she did. It was odd; he couldn't picture one of the popular girls becoming a nurse. But here was one in front of him—one who worked in a nursing home at that. Personally, he hated the places, but admired someone who could spend entire days in those depressing places. Then she asked what he did. It was a hard question to answer—not because he could not tell her exactly what he did, down to the most minute detail, but because he was ashamed that he had gone from big time New York advertising to making political ads for the hacks running for Congress and Senate. He said as little as he could, but she seemed interested. It was as if she actually found it respectable. Her demeanor had changed. She was smiling and hanging on his every word as if she actually found it—or found him— interesting. Then she asked the toughest question—did he like his job? There was no way to answer the question without lying. He hated doing political advertising with every fiber of his being. But what would she think if he said he hated it. She would probably ask that naïve question about trying something else. People from outside the city always did. The only thing to do was to not answer the question, but say something close enough that she would not know he was avoiding it. So he said, "I love advertising. It beats delivering propane." Before she could pry further, he had to turn the tables on her, so he asked about her life back home. She had to have a lot of guys up there. And since he was a little interested, he might as well find out if he had a chance or not. There was probably no hope in the long run, but at least tonight could be fun. She completely changed. The smile was gone, and she was quiet for a little while. When she started talking about how busy she was with work, she seemed guarded. There was obviously something she was not saying. Maybe she did have a boyfriend—or even a husband; some women do take off their rings. Maybe she even had kid, or was a single mother. It did not seem like it was anything like that though. It seemed to be a loneliness or even desperation that she was holding back. Looking at her, he melted. He had always been a sucker for a girl with a good sob story. Actually, they were usually easier to get into bed. But it was different with this girl. He did not want to bed her. It occurred to him that sex might actually hurt her. Instead, he wanted to take her home, make her coffee, hug her, and make all of her problems go away. He needed an idea. Sara's Lament... It was a bit awkward after JJ left them alone. The conversation seemed strained, but for some reason the guy seemed interesting. She tried to place him in her mind, but there were a few Steves in their class. Which one was Steve Michaels? It was obvious that JJ wanted them to be alone though. With how JJ had helped during high school, it would be hard not to trust her. So she decided to just keep talking to this guy. He wasn't particularly tall or well built, but there was something cute about him. Maybe it was how he cracked a small half-face smile when he made a comment he thought was funny. Most people didn't think you should laugh at your own jokes, but she never knew why that was the case. Maybe it was that he didn't seem to care that he was away from his friends—that it was just the two of them. Or maybe it was his eyes. Even in the dark of the club, she could see depth in them. They weren't the contact lens covered shallow pools of color that she saw in so many people. They were deep with experiences greater than anyone their age should have had. It was the look she saw in old men's eyes when they would come to visit their Alzheimer's suffering wives in the nursing home— memories and struggles hidden behind soft voices and old jokes. In Steve's eyes she saw pain. But why? She had to learn more. One problem though was the drink in her hand—a Lynchburg Lemonade or something like that. Because she didn't go out, she didn't have the opportunity to get a drink with anyone, and she refused to drink alone. She probably wouldn't have drunk anyway though. Alcohol reminded her of the pain her father had caused. But it was rude to refuse a drink though. So after she had taken it, she held it in her hand while she listened to him. Then on the occasions when he would look away, maybe for his friend or maybe for the bartender to get him another drink, she would pour some on the floor. The bartender must have been watching though. At one point he came up and asked if her if the drink was OK. She politely said yes, but something must have told him what she was really doing because a minute later when he was cleaning a glass and talking to Steve, the bartender hit the drink with his elbow sending it flying past her. He apologized profusely and told her he would get her something special 'on the house'. A minute later he came back with a pink drink in his hand. He waited while she tried it—pink lemonade. She was safe. She gulped it down and ordered another. It was ironic that even though the only thing they had to talk about was JJ, she found herself enjoying her conversation with Steve. The best part was that she could talk with him about something having to do with home without him judging her based upon her father. Apparently, he hadn't been around enough to hear about it. As she began to feel more relaxed she said that JJ had really helped her after her mother left. Suddenly, he seemed more interested, as if there might be a something beyond a common friend about which they could talk. But before she let the conversation go any further, she realized that if she said what JJ had done for her she would have to tell this guy, who seemed to at least be a nice guy, about being willing to prostitute herself to support an alcoholic father. Eventually she would mention her father and the dead family. Then the conversation would be over and she would be alone again. For a while neither of them said anything. It seemed as if the guy had something to say to her, but instead he stared at her hair. Of all the things he could do to make her self-conscious, that was the most powerful. In high school she had always took pride in her hair spending an hour each morning teasing her bangs and crimping. It took a lot of work, and a lot of hairspray, but it was worthwhile to have a look that most other girls didn't have. However, now it was too hard to do her hair every day. Instead, she had a simple straightforward cut that was easy to get ready in the morning and would look just about the same all day at work. He must have thought she looked like she didn't care. But then all of a sudden he began to show more interest, and actually asked what she did. Back home no one really cared who you were. Instead they judged you by who your family was or what group of people you hung out with. This guy wanted to know about her! Though she was not particularly proud of her job, she started to describe working at the nursing home. She described, in as much detail as she found appropriate, a day in her life ending with going home and watching TV because she was so tired. It was a half-truth, but she didn't want to say that she cloistered herself because of her father. When she finished, he still seemed interested, almost fascinated by something. His interest made her feel happier than she had in a long time. Returning the favor, she asked what he did. His answer was reserved, as if he were picking his words carefully. He told her how he had majored in advertising and worked for a while in New York City, mentioning something about working on a project for toothpaste, one she remembered wanting to try but was too expensive for her to use on her budget. But then his company had sent him to Washington to do political advertising. Just by chance he had ended up in what had to be the greatest city in the world. Finally, he ended up by saying that if he was not in advertising he would be delivering propane. That's who he was, Steve Michaels of the Michael's Propane Services family. She could almost have laughed remembering how in elementary school, she didn't remember which year, he had farted in class and some other kid made a joke about how Steve's father collected his 'gas'. Steve had almost been in tears, but everyone else was laughing. Back then it was funny to her as well, but after the last few years she understood how Steve had felt. Most times she interacted with other people now, she wanted to cry. Often, she would have people remind her that her father had killed an entire family. It didn't matter that they had been estranged for years; it only mattered that they shared blood. And it seemed to all of the town they shared blood on their hands too. It was fascinating though. How did the son of a propane delivery man end up in advertising? On top of that, he was living in Washington, DC making political ads. What could be better than that? She wanted to ask more, find out who he had worked for and things like that. However, before she could ask anything else, he asked her about the topic that more than any she did not want to talk about—life back home. She knew that at some point he would probably realize who she was, so she would have to say something, but she didn't want to say anything here. Not in this club. So she talked about work and how busy she was, it wasn't really true, but it was true enough. Steve must have realized that something was wrong because his smile disappeared. At best she was getting bored, at worst he realized who she was. The pressure of the conversation and trying to pretend that she was somebody she wasn't began to exhaust her. She needed a way out, so she asked where the rest rooms were. It was strange though, instead of pointing them out and finishing his drink, he offered to walk her back. When he took her hand to lead her through the crowd, something just felt right. It was as if she had been holding his hand for years. As she walked into the ladies room, she was able to give Steve a quick but honest smile. Just the walk to the back of the club had been the best thing that had happened to her since her father's accident. Instead of being shunned, someone actually touched her. She smiled back trying to say thank you. However, in the restroom, reality raced back. She was in city where she always wanted to be, talking with the type of guy she should have dated years ago, but all of it had to be an an illusion. The moment she mentioned her father, the night would end in disappointment. For a few minutes she cried. Though other girls stared at her no one even asked if she was OK. Eventually, she composed herself and wiped her eyes with a wet paper towel. As she left the ladies room, she realized that she was hungry. When she casually mentioned it to him, Steve mentioned he knew a good place to get some breakfast. Though he immediately looked as if he had regretted asking her, she quickly accepted. Steve's Wish... When she said she needed to use the restroom, Steve's heart deflated. He had been there before. You talk to a girl for a while; she gets bored with you; she says she needs to use the ladies' room; and then she never comes back. You sit at the bar for half an hour and eventually see her with her friend, but there's always a guy there too. Usually, they're sucking face. Like all the other times, he was sure she was trying to get away from him— in a rude way that all girls thought was polite. Normally, he would have pointed out the restroom and let her go. If he met another girl who asked about 'the woman he'd been talking to' he would just say she was an old friend from home. That was partly true, so he could probably pull it off. Tonight, though, he was going to take a chance. This girl—Sara, that was her name—was different than the girls he usually met here. She was attractive, and interesting, and most of all genuine. He could not just let her go. Instead, he slid off his bar stool and took her hand saying, "Let me take you there." Sara didn't protest, instead he let him silently lead her through the writhing crowd towards the other side of the club. He pulled her close enough so that they didn't get pulled apart, but not so close that she would think he was trying to bed her. When they got to the short hallway that led to the restroom, he let go of her hand. If he took her to the door then waited for her to come out, he would probably seem smothering. That's not how he wanted to come across. Instead, he let go of her and looked at her. A sad smile came to his face, a smile of resignation telling her that he had a good time but he knew that it was goodbye. Surprisingly though, she smiled back. Maybe there was a chance. There hadn't seemed to be a line, so when she hadn't come out after 10 minutes Steve was convinced that she was going to linger inside and hope that he would give up waiting and leave her to her friends. However, just as he was about to give up, Sara came out of the bathroom. Her eyes puffy and it looked as if she had been crying. He wondered what was wrong. Was it him? Did she have a boyfriend and feel like she was cheating? He wanted to know, but with the loud music and cacophony of voices drowning out every individual, he knew that it would be hard to get personal here. He wanted to play it cool, but he wanted to get her out of the club. A walk by the monuments would be perfect, but that would be too much for tonight. Instead when she mentioned that she was hungry, he asked if she wanted to get breakfast. Immediately he regretted asking. A woman from out of town would think that he was trying to separate her from her friends. She would think that he would get her to his place then rape her—or something like that. However, instead of declining then running back to JJ and the other girls, she accepted with a smile. For Steve, this was uncharted territory. He would now be responsible for anything that happened to her. When Sara said they should tell JJ, he almost took back the offer. In high school, it seemed like any time JJ got into trouble, or Brian for that matter, things seemed to work out in their favor. It was as if someone were always protecting them. JJ would probably extend that to Sara tonight. I could be a disaster. When they found JJ and the other girls on the dance floor, the usual thing happened. JJ excused herself and pulled Sara to off to the side. Steve could see a look of concern on JJ's face as they talked, but gradually it faded. Finally, JJ had Sara breathe in her face and smiled. He knew that he had just seen the 'poor man's breathalyzer', and Sara had passed. He had always had been suspect of it, but seeing Sara pass after how much she had had to drink, he was sure that it was indeed bull. JJ motioned for him to follow as she led Sara to the bar. She grabbed a napkin and asked for a pen. "Give me your driver's license," she said. Without think about it, Steve pulled it out as it was obvious that JJ was going to copy down his address. However, when she looked at it, she cocked an eyebrow and said "New York?" Steve knew the night was over, though he had been in DC for a while—living in Virginia actually—he had never gotten a new driver's license. Technically, it was illegal. He didn't live at his old apartment, but he had never been questioned about it before. In the DC area many people kept an old 'legal address' for tax purposes. He, instead, kept it as a last piece of the life he had wanted but had lost. If he explained that he just hadn't had chance to change it yet, JJ might understand. However, there was no need. As JJ stared at him, the bar tender came over and said, "Dude, when the fuck are you just going to change that shit?" Then turning to JJ he said, "He's legit. He and his buddies practically keep us in business. He lives just across the river in Rosslyn." That seemed to satisfy JJ, and she just told him to write it down. In a few minutes, he and Sara were in a cab heading into Georgetown. The familiar lights of the M Street crawled by in the slow traffic. There was a 24-hour diner on Wisconsin Ave that he thought would be perfect. Just a place on the first floor of a former townhouse, it wasn't fancy or romantic. It wouldn't seem like he was trying to impress her. When they got there, there was no wait, unusual for this time on a Friday night. In a minute they were seated, and staring at menus. It was always hard to choose something when he came here with a woman. He couldn't look like a pig so a full meal was out, but he had to get something. Finally, he decided on eggs-benedict and fries. Though Sara kept saying she couldn't choose, she still said she was ready for the waiter to come. When he ordered, she asked if what he got was good. After he said yes, she ordered the same. Now was the awkward part, he would have to make some kind of conversation with her. At first it was easy. She asked question about Washington and told him how much she had wanted to come to the city. Though it meant talking about his life, it was easy to talk about it in depersonalized terms. He could tell her about the things he did, but not tell her about how it affected him or how he felt about anything. He even mentioned how beautiful the Monuments were at night. However, after their food came and he began to eat, the conversation began to strain him. There was not much more he could say, and the questions were becoming more personal. Finally, when Sara said how lucky he was to live in the city, he let slip, "not so much really." After asking why he was there if he didn't want to be there, he knew he would have to say something. He stayed silent for a minute trying to compose his thoughts enough to figure out how to nuance the story. Since he had come to DC, he had learned how to do that well. However, when he looked in her face, he knew that would not be enough. This woman was genuine, honest, and real. She was not the typical DC person who really cared about nothing. Instead, he knew he would be honest. While she ate her food, he explained about college and how more than anything he wanted to live in New York City and feel the bustle of Manhattan. He told her about his father and the argument where he broke ties with his family. Then he told her in honest detail how he had screwed up at his firm and had been exiled to Washington. Finally, he told her about how lost and alone he felt since then. He was ready for her to dismiss him as a 20-something failure. But instead she gave him a sad smile, and said, "I used to believe that someday each of us would end up where we needed to be, but now I just think that most people just end up trying to survive where they end up." Then she said it was time for her story. Sara's Wish... At least for tonight, Sara was where she wanted to be. The lights of Georgetown seemed to be brighter and even more vibrant than she remembered from that one night she had been there in high school. She was even grateful for the heavy traffic as it meant that she would get more time to see everything. And it meant she would get to spend more time with an interesting guy. That would of course change when he figured out who her father had been, but at least for now he seemed to be pretty nice. The restaurant he took her to was amazing. Kind of near where the lights of the heart of Georgetown began to taper off, it was obviously a neighborhood place. It was almost like a pancake house squeezed into a townhouse. There was no décor to speak of, but the place had some kind of charm to it. Even the menu was simple but everything looked delicious. This had to be what the real Washington was like. But she needed to know more, so she kept asking Steve about what he did when he wasn't working. Everything he talked about seemed so interesting. She wanted to live it too! He had to have about the most interesting life she had ever heard about. But the more he talked, the more she realized he described everything in a detached manner. It was as if he did so many things but didn't actually live them. To her it was heresy! How could he live here and not drink in every moment? When their food got there he began to eat, but she kept asking him about things, probing for anything more personal. Eventually, he looked strained, and a sad look came across his face. In a moment, she could tell that this wasn't where he wanted to be. Then he started a story. He told her about his dream of living in New York—which she couldn't understand—but having to give up his family to have it. Then he lost that dream too. Now, like her, he was alone. He would be able to understand how she felt, if anyone could. When he finished his story, it seemed as if he was waiting to be dismissed. She couldn't do that though. At least for tonight she had to hold on to him. She had never thought she would find anyone who could understand what she was going through back home. She would have to be honest and tell him about herself, but it was a chance she would take. When he finished, she said something stupid about living the life you get not the one you wanted. Then she started her story. He looked surprised when she talked about her drunk father and her mother leaving. When she mentioned about having to almost prostitute herself in high school, he called the guy a bastard. He smiled about JJ helping her out. However, his face went blank when she started to cry and tell him about her father's accident and how she had been treated afterward. Finally, she timidly told him about how she had gotten back in contact with JJ. She finished and waited for him blow her off. She was almost euphoric when he said, "I'm so glad I got out of there. Everyone up there are bitches and assholes. You didn't fucking do anything but the piss ants go and blame you. Fuck them, you needed to get out of there." He understood; he really understood. Well, maybe he partly understood. He was right that she needed to get out of there, but he didn't understand not having a way to do it. As bad as Steve's father may have ended up being, he was at least good enough to let him get a start out of that area. Neither her father nor her mother gave her that opportunity. From the moment her mother left, there was no question that she'd be going to college locally. And where she grew up, if you didn't get out right after high school, you would probably end up staying. With a gentle sigh, she said "if I only had a way to do that…" For a moment, there was silence. Looking across the table, she could see that Steve was thinking about something. Though she didn't know what it was, she couldn't think of anything good that he might be thinking. Though he may have been able to overlook her father, with the last phrase she had told him that she was just another Valley girl—born there, grew up there, lives there, going to die there—with nothing at all to recommend her. Then questions came like a barrage. First Steve asked if she was serious that she always wanted to live in Washington. When she said yes, he asked her if she was going home the next day. When she said that she was planning on going home the next evening, he smiled and said "okay, so for tonight you're out of there. Tell me whatever you want to do in the city and I'll do it with you." The offer was unexpected, and sent her mind into a whirlwind. First, there were so many things she wanted to do in the city, and on top of that how many of them could you actually do at night, or on the weekend for that matter. But then, there was this guy on the other side of the table who she vaguely knew of from high school, who she had only ever talked to this evening, who could have dismissed her for any of the other reasons so many people had done in the past few years, offering to give her what might be the greatest gift anyone had ever offered—to have one night in the city of her dreams to do whatever she wanted. She tried to stop her mind from racing, but before it settled down she blurted out, "I hear the monuments are beautiful at night." A few minutes later, Steve had paid the check and they were in a cab headed back down M Street. In a few blocks they turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue, then at a big traffic circle they headed south past some university and a hospital. She was almost ready to pass out with excitement when he pointed out that they were driving past the State Department. Finally, the taxi pulled over across the street from the Lincoln Memorial. For some reason it seemed natural to let Steve take her hand when they crossed the street. There was no excitement, as there had been in the club, but there was also no awkwardness. Instead, something felt natural—as if she had come down to the city just to see him. JJ was an afterthought; and the people back home barely registered in the deepest part of her memory. Right now it was just her in the city she was supposed to be in with the man she felt she needed to be with. They crossed the street and walked past some haggard looking men standing at booths with POW/MIA flags hanging limply on a still night. Vietnam veterans waiting to the quiet hum of generators, hoping that someone would remember their lost brothers. She thought of an old Charlie Daniels song, Still in Saigon. She might not know exactly how the person in that song felt, trapped for years or maybe decades in a place of sadness and despair feeling alone, but given where she had been just yesterday she could understand a little bit. They walked a few more yards, then stood in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Though the outside was mostly dark, even from the ground she could see the giant statue of the Great Liberator. He sat there a giant symbol of freedom, which is what she felt at this moment. Something –she didn't know what—told her that Steve was going to be the person to lead her away from all of the pain that their hometown had caused her. When she turned to look at Steve, she'd expected that he would be looking at the monument too—taking in the power of the scene. Instead he was looking at her with a smile that showed a complexity she had never seen in somebody's expression before. The smile was caring, and it was tender. However, she could also see pride in it, the pride of a conquering hero. At first it sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps, he didn't really understand. Perhaps, he was only there because he needed some distraction from tonight, some distraction from his life. But when he softly asked her if she wanted to go inside, she was reassured and said yes. Standing before the giant statue of Abraham Lincoln made her feel insignificant, though not in a bad way. Before her was a man who had conquered problems that most people probably had seemed insurmountable. He had failed at many things. He only became president because of backroom deals. And then when he took office he pulled the country through a bloodied war. Compared to what he went through, even the ostracism she felt at home was something that could be overcome. Steve led her around the Memorial explaining various things to her. First they read the Emancipation Proclamation, and then he showed her how it looked like General Grant's face was carved into the back of Lincoln's hair showing how intertwined they were in bringing freedom to the country and in a sense to themselves. What neither one could do, both did together. It was Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address that had the greatest effect on her, though. In fact, it was only eight words that put things into perspective –"With malice towards none, with charity for all…" It was time, time to let go. Time to let go of the anger she had towards her father, time to let go of the resentment she had to the people who shunned her because of who her father was, time to let go of the pain from her mother leaving, and, more than anything, time to let go of the hopelessness that made her feel like she would be stuck in the Valley for her entire life. She would get out. She would take that little bit of confidence Steve had seemed to see in her and prove to him that he was right, and show she could get out of there. He might not know it, but he really was the best man who would ever come into her life. A few minutes later, they were sitting on the stairs looking out over the plaza below.. Steve was once again explaining things about the mall and about the Vietnam Veterans Memorial to the left and the Korean War Memorial to the right, then straight ahead the Washington Monument and the Capitol beyond. He said how beautiful the sunrise was when it made the white dome look orange and then blazed behind the monument. He even alluded to maybe staying out all night and looking at the sunrise, which she had no interest in. She would go home tonight but not to JJ's place. On the same night he'd explained all his troubles and disappointments to her, Steve had forgotten or was ignoring all of them, she didn't know which, and was giving her a wonderful gift. She knew where she was going. She would say thank you in the best way she possibly could. She was going home with him. Quietly, she slid herself towards him. Against her arm, his felt warm like the morning on a summer day that you know will get hotter. Gently she slid her arm between his and his body, their elbows locked together. She took his hand, and their fingers intertwined like a couple. Then gently she laid her head on his shoulder. She could feel the shudder go through his body. Was he excited? Was he nervous? Or was it something she could not figure out? She enjoyed the tender touch for a few minutes with neither saying anything. She listened to his breath, as she felt her own. She felt content, safe, and wanted. Though she had never felt like that before, for some reason the feeling was familiar. But as much as she liked the feeling, she would not let it last. It was time to show Steve how grateful she was—it was time to give herself to him. When he asked her if she wanted to walk to the Washington Monument she saw her opportunity she slowly pulled herself back slightly and looked him in his eyes. Then she said, "No. I'm ready to go home." It was cute how he looked confused, but it was also revealing because she knew that if he hadn't felt the same way she did he would have just let her go. However, he stammered about whether he should get her a cab back to JJ's. She wouldn't let him be disappointed for more than a moment though. Instead, she smiled, put her hand behind his head, and pulled him towards her. Then she kissed him the best she could, trying to show thankfulness for the wonderful night he'd given to her. It didn't matter how long the kiss lasted, but at the end she just let it trail off. Then smiling again, she said, "I'm not going back to JJ's, I'm going home with you." Steve's dream... When he was a boy, his mother had always said he had a lost puppy complex. That he wanted to find somebody who was hurt and help them. She didn't really know that most of the people he was friends with or the girls he tried to date were all people that might have a hard luck story, but could maybe help him get to a different place in his life. Honestly, he didn't really like helping people—at least not at this point in his life. He thought too much about his own failures to really care for anybody else's feelings. However after hearing Sara's story, he couldn't help but want to help her. Really, how could people be so mean? In high school he hadn't known her mother had left, or that her father was an alcoholic, or that some ass hole tried to make her his whore. Admittedly, he hadn't really known her at all, but at least you'd think something like that would come around as a rumor. But somehow she had the strength to keep it a secret. That was amazing. Even more amazing was that somehow she was able to stay sane in the town of simpletons who, for some reason, wanted to take out their anger and hatred of her father on her. Though typical of the people there, it just wasn't fair – – not at all. When Sara finished her story, he couldn't contain himself and cursed the people of the town up and down. Then absentmindedly he told her she needed to get out. In a moment he realized there probably wasn't any way she could do it –at least not alone. He knew she couldn't make that much money, nurses rarely did. But maybe he could help. It crossed his mind how beautiful it would be to wake up next to her in the morning. How perfect it would be to sit at his table with her on a Saturday morning, him reading the newspaper in warm-up pants and a T-shirt, while she sipped her coffee wearing one of his button- down shirts and a pair of his boxers. But he put the thought out of his mind. That was too much. Things like that didn't happen to him, women like that didn't happen to him. Tomorrow he would wake up still a 20-something failure and she would be gone from his life. Well maybe he wouldn't quite be a failure. While it wasn't fair that he had been exiled to Washington after one failed project, maybe his job was something he could make the most of. Tomorrow he would wake up alone, and yes he would be disappointed. But there was always the day after. He could find a club to join; he could volunteer; he can even take a free course at the Smithsonian. Just in the little time he had spent with her Sara showed him that no matter how bad things are you can still keep going. He would do that because it was the least he could do to thank her. But just moving on from his problems wasn't what he wanted to do to say thank you. There had to be something more. And then he realized that there was something simple he could give her tonight. It might just be for a few hours, and it might not be everything she wanted, but tonight he would give her the city. Whatever she wanted, he would give to her. Wherever she wanted to go he would take her. When he asked her where she wanted to go and she said she wanted to see the monuments at night, he didn't think twice. He paid the check and then got them a cab. The ride to the Lincoln Memorial felt like a disaster. He babbled nonstop about everything they passed. He even said the most boring thing and pointed out the State Department to her as they passed by. But for some reason it didn't seem to bother her. Instead, Sara seemed to hang on every word he said like it mattered. Could it be that she was actually interested? Could it be that she was excited to be with him? Probably not, but at least he would enjoy the time he had with her. Soon enough they were standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial looking up at the gigantic statue of a man whose life seem to fall apart so many times, but who had kept going no matter what. He wasn't a particularly good lawyer, he only served one term in Congress, he lost a Senate race to Stephen Douglas, but somehow he persevered. And he became president –perhaps the best the country had ever seen. Though he had been there numerous times, even a few times at night, tonight was meaningful. He could and would persevere and get back to a place he wanted to be. It might not be New York City, but he would find a way to put himself in a better place. As they walked around the memorial he started to babble again. He read the Emancipation Proclamation word for word and even pointed how you could see Ulysses Grant's face in the back of Abraham Lincoln's hair. But Sara seemed to be enjoying herself. Though he felt foolish, she didn't seem to notice. It was as if in a short period of time they had formed some kind of connection. It was something that led to people who felt like they were in terrible situations to take each other and build a bubble around themselves—pain on the outside, but inside together protected from everything that wanted to destroy them. He looked at her and wanted to kiss her. He wanted to consummate this bond by holding her and telling her how he felt, seeing if she felt that connection also. That would be too much though. Tonight had been wonderful and made him feel like, at least on a small scale, good things could happen to him. But she couldn't happen to him. She was just too beautiful, too strong, too perfect. A few minutes later, though, Sara amazed him again. As they sat on the steps of the Memorial, he was surprised to feel her pull herself towards him, to intertwine their arms, and to take his hand, not like a sympathetic friend but like a girlfriend. And then there was an awkward silence. He really didn't know what she was thinking After a few minutes he couldn't bear it anymore. The feeling of her next to him was so good, so much of something he had wanted for such a long time, that he couldn't let himself fantasize that tonight was something more than it was. It was him saying thank you in a small imperfect way. It was a brief window of time when he would give her a little bit of something she wanted before he sent her back to JJ. To break the mood, he made a crack about staying out to watch the sunrise over the capital. He hadn't meant it seriously and was obvious Sara hadn't taken it seriously either. Trying another approach to get out of the situation he asked her if she wanted to walk over to the Washington monument. He was devastated when she said she wanted to go home. It was over before he had really gotten to enjoy it. So he asked her if she wanted him to get her a cab back to JJ's. It was the least he could do. Then something happened that was unexpected and amazing. As he felt ready to break down and cry, Sara leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't a long French kiss, their tongues did not dance, but it felt like a kiss between two people who genuinely loved each other. He thought he knew where it was going, but still he felt greater joy than he had ever felt before when she said she wanted to go back to his place. In tender silence they walked back to the street and found a taxi. He gave the guy his address across the river in Arlington, Virginia, and off they went. Instead of going back through Georgetown, the driver took them over the Memorial Bridge towards Arlington Cemetery. With Sara again curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder, it struck him that this wasn't one of the famous ways out of the city. This was the way commuters went home. For some reason it seemed appropriate. This didn't feel like it was going to be a one night stand it felt like it could really be something more. Though he dare not even have the fantasy, it struck him that someday he might be driving this after a day of work going home to her. They pulled up in front of the Safeway on Wilson Boulevard, and hopped out. After paying the driver they went around the side of the building to the entrance of the high rise apartment building in which he lived. As they passed the front desk the middle-aged African- American woman who worked the evening into the night gave him a knowing look. He had brought women back here before and she probably thought this was just another screw. How wrong she was. Or at least he hoped she was wrong. He always kept his apartment clean in case he brought somebody home, so he wasn't nervous about whether Sara would think he was the typical bachelor slob. Instead he was nervous to have her there at all. He was showing her another part of his life, and he was still afraid she would decide she didn't like it. But it was in for a penny in for a pound so they say. It had really been her decision to come here so she would probably be forgiving of anything that was wrong. Though he was sure they would end up in the bedroom, he still thought it proper to at least give Sara a tour of his relatively large one bedroom apartment. He even decided it would be nice to tell her about some of his stuff like the college pennant he had hanging over the bedroom door. She really didn't seem interested though, but not in a bad way. More so it seemed like she was impatient, wanting things to move on as quickly as possible. For a moment he thought she might be nervous, but that didn't seem right. It seemed more like she too knew where things were going to go, like she wanted the same thing he did, and didn't want to wait any longer for it. Without a word he led her to the couch, and they sat together in the middle. This time he was the one who turned and kissed her. There was no resistance. Though it started tenderly, the kiss became more passionate when he opened his mouth, hers open too, and she willingly let him lay her back on the couch. With him on top, they started grinding like teenagers. Like they were going as far as they could afraid that someone might come into the room. But no one would. Instead they did it because they were starting from the beginning. Perhaps they both felt as if maybe they should have gotten together in high school. Or maybe they both wished somehow the universe had let them meet while they were in college. But they hadn't – in a way they had just met tonight. They weren't 20-somethings, they were two kids exploring like they never had been with anyone before. After a few minutes he felt brave. So trying to take things to the next level, he slid his hand under her shirt and gently stroked her stomach inside. Sara responded to him, obviously wanting to feel his touch as much as he wanted to touch her. But when he tried to push her shirt up, she stopped him and coyly said, "You have to take me to bed for that." Smiling, he pulled her up and quietly led her to the bedroom. When they got there, Sara asked him to put on some music. Though he didn't really like it, he always kept some jazz music in his CD player alarm clock. Personally he would have preferred some kind of rock music, but for some reason it was easier to romance girls when he played something like John Coltrane. Actually, he suspected that not that many of the women he met actually liked jazz, but it was sort of one of those things you're supposed to do, be romanced by jazz music. However, she didn't seem bothered by it. Instead, a big smile came to her face. She said, "You go first." At first he wasn't sure what she meant, but when she kept staring at him he realized that she wanted him to get naked first. It was strange. Most of the women he met in DC wanted the lights off and to have their clothing already taken off and on upon the floor while making out. It was almost as if they didn't want to see what they were doing and give themselves plausible deniability—being able to say they got caught up the moment. However, it didn't seem that that's what Sara wanted. He did not make a move for the light, and she did not say anything about it. So he took his clothing off—T-shirt, polo, pants, socks, and boxers—and sat on the edge of his bed. When he was done, Sara smiled. At first it made him uncomfortable. He had been wondering if she might be disappointed in what she saw. Now he knew she wasn't. But that was harder. He wasn't a stud; he didn't have a gym body; and moreover, his body still looked rather young. But then she closed her eyes, and started to move with the music. Gently and slowly, perfectly in time, she swayed back and forth. Her hands started on her face, slid down her neck past her breasts and onto her stomach. Gently, she caressed her body through her clothing. It wasn't slutty or particularly provocative. Instead, it was filled with emotion. On the surface the dance seemed filled with sadness and resignation, but he could see that underneath there was hope. It wasn't just hope though. There seemed to be some kind of trust, as if with her body she was saying, "Tonight I give myself to you. Please treat me like you love me." Before his mind could tell him to stop, his heart spoke, and he said "I will." With that Sara smile grew even bigger. Slowly keeping time with the music and still with her eyes closed, she gently lifted her shirt over her head. Letting it fall to the floor she ran her hands through her hair and gently caressed her bare stomach. Next, she slowly unbuckled her jeans, unzipped them, and pushed them down below her knees. She did it gently and elegantly, which was surprising because of how tight they were. She stood there in a matching bra and panties for a second, but then started to move to the music again. Her hands met on her chest. With a quick flick, her front clasping bra fell limp exposing her breasts which were neither small nor big, just average. Even in the soft light of the bedroom, he could tell that they were pale. She had not spent time in a tanning salon, and there was no tan in a can. It was obvious that she had not come to this city looking for a hook up. She might not look perfectly sexy, but she was genuine. She was not Washington. She was real Finally, Sara's panties dropped to the floor. She stood there naked in front of him, pale skin and a trusting smile. He looked over her body and noticed that she was unshaven. He knew that was getting to be a rarity, since Cosmo had started publishing articles about how "clean" it was to be shaven or trimmed. She was natural. Quickly, he realized he liked that better. Then she was coming to him. When she got to the edge of the bed she knelt. At first he expected her to start giving him a blow job. But instead she started stroking him. He had been lost in the beauty of the dance, so he did not realize that he was hard. But as she played with him, he realized that he didn't want to feel her hands or her mouth. He wanted to be inside her. For some reason it seemed appropriate. She would not be serving him any more than he was serving her. He wanted to approach this with them as equals. So he stood up, took her by the hand, and when they were almost eye to eye he kissed her. At first it was an affectionate respectful kiss like they had had on the couch. But quickly it became more. They could not deny the passion anymore. They both needed a release, both their bodies and their emotions. They were two people wounded by life who had somehow found each other, and that they were going to celebrate. In a moment they were at the side of the bed. And then they fell—no floated—onto the bed. Neither made a move for the covers. They just kissed with their bodies moving together in time with the music. Though often the first minutes of a hook up were awkward as two people's bodies got to know each other, it wasn't then. It was as if there was a rhythm to their bodies that had always been there waiting to find the other, and when the match was made, they fell into perfect synchronicity. There was some touching, but in general not much foreplay. That, they had been doing, emotionally not physically, since they had met at the bar. After a few minutes Sara rolled on her back, and he slid on top. With a smile on her face Sara said, "I want you inside of me." He closed his eyes as she took him and held him at her opening. Gently, he slid slowly inside of her wanting to savor her, every millimeter of her body, a body that he felt had been created for him, and him alone. She gasped, though it didn't seem like pain. Instead, it seemed like surprise. He didn't know what that meant, so he kept going. Slowly he began to pick up speed. She felt better than anyone ever had before. Suddenly he realized they had gotten caught up in the moment. He didn't know if she was on the pill, and he wasn't wearing a condom. Normally, he would have quickly pulled out and asked about birth control. This time, though, he couldn't do that. In reality, he had only really known Sara for a few hours, but already he had respect for her. He would not take the chance of leaving her with child with him hundreds of miles away. He stopped, and Sara looked up at him asking, "What's wrong?" He didn't know how to phrase the question, but somehow she seemed to read his mind and told him she wasn't on the pill. He asked her if she wanted him to put on a condom. She said she didn't know and asked him if he wanted to. He said he didn't know either. Finally, with a hint of sadness she said, "I really don't want you to. But I don't want you to feel like I'm trapping you if I get pregnant, so you probably should." He reached into his nightstand drawer, took one out, opened it, and unrolled it over himself. Perhaps, he should have felt rejected when she told him to put it on. However, it was now obvious that she respected him too. That was enough to keep the passion going. For a while he stayed on top, alternating between slow and deliberate thrusts and all out passionate attack on her body. She responded to each change in rhythm and in angle with different sighs, moans, and grunts. Then, when he began to get tired she rolled him over and got on top of him. She drove her hips back and forth like a person who did this every day, though he knew she had not been with anybody in a long time. Finally, her breathing got heavier, her head arched back, and she began to grind herself as hard as she could into him. He could feel her hair rubbing against his, and it was too much. As she arched her back and held her breath, he thrust his hips towards her and came harder than he had ever remembered. First one spurt, then a second—he felt as if he came so much that the condom would have leaked. But he didn't care. If she got pregnant, he'd find a way to make sure she stayed around. Sara rolled off with him and looked over with a big smile on her face. "That was amazing," she said, and hugged him tightly. Somehow they ended up lying face-to- face under the covers. But the combination of the exertion and the emotion was too much. Though he figured she probably wanted to cuddle, he just couldn't do it. He was exhausted. His eyes could not stay open. Sara's Dream... The cab ride to Steve's apartment didn't feel like it was supposed to. From everything she had heard, the cab ride to a guy's apartment was supposed to make you feel uncomfortable, even make you feel like a slut. That's not what this felt like as they crossed the bridge into Virginia. It felt natural, almost as if they were just going home at the end of an evening. They sat close as they drove up some road she didn't know, and eventually came out in front of the hotel where she had stayed so many years ago. When they got to Steve's building it was exciting. There was a 24-hour supermarket on the ground level that they had to go past to get to the entrance. The building even had a front desk with an attendant. That was something you never saw in the town where they grew up. Steve might not be satisfied with his life, but then he didn't realize how exciting it was. When they got to his apartment, it was perfect. It wasn't messy, but was obvious that a guy lived there. But she didn't really notice the apartment all that much, she was focused on Steve. He might not be tall, he might not be muscle-bound, he may look a little bit on the young side. But the man she came home with was a real man. He had opened up to her, and listened without judging when she opened up to him. She wanted to be here. She wanted to give herself to him. And she realized she never wanted to leave. This is where she wanted to be. Not because it was Washington, DC, but because it's where he was. She would never have known it if she had not come to visit JJ, but this is where she was supposed to be. She wished beyond hope that this wouldn't be just one night, but if that's all that was she would take it. She felt like a schoolgirl when Steve led her to the couch, where she slid her shoes off and got comfortable. When they began to kiss she allowed him to lay her back. His body felt perfect on top of her giving her a feeling of being covered and protected. This was the body that was supposed to be on top of her. It seemed as if the kissing would go on forever, but when his hand slid under her shirt, she knew it was time for things to move forward. But she would not do it on the couch with him, not the first time. She wanted him to let her all the way into his life. She wanted to do it in his bed like a couple would. When she told him, he smiled took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. Though she tried not to show it, she was nervous. But the way Steve behaved put her fully at ease. When she asked for music, he put on some jazz. It wasn't her first choice; she would have preferred rock. But she guessed that's what people listen to in the city, and it would be a minor sacrifice to be with him. When she asked him to take his clothes off first, again he accommodated her. He was a perfect gentleman—the perfect person to give herself to. As Steve sat down on the end of his bed, she suddenly realized she had no idea how she was going to get undressed herself. It had been such a long time she had gotten naked in front of the guy. And then it was a quick fuck with some guy she had known from high school just a few days before her father's accident—since then nothing. However, when she closed her eyes, she felt the music washing over her body and the rest came naturally. She began to gently sway to the music, telling the story of the night through her movements. Trepidation, the anxiety, sadness, the hope, and now the trust; they were all there. Through her movements she wanted to tell Steve "This is who I am. This is what we are. I give this to you today, tomorrow, and for however long you want me." It was natural how her shirt came off followed by her jeans, her bra, and her panties. It was natural how her hands moved over her body as if revealing herself to him over and over and over. When she was naked and ready to give herself fully to him, she knelt in front of him. She looked at him he wasn't huge, but he wasn't small either. This was a man's penis not a boy's, which is the only thing she had seen before. It was beautiful and inviting. She didn't know if this is what a wonderful, beautiful cock looked like, but it was the one she wanted. She was ready to take it into her mouth, to give him the blow job that pretty much any guy wanted, but he did something that shocked her. He stood up, reached down to her hand, and pulled her up so that they were and eye level. He looked at her as an equal. She realized that as she gave herself to him, Steve would not be taking. He would be giving himself back to her. Today might not be the last time they were together. It was possible that he felt the same way she did. She let Steve lead her to the bed, they kissed and fell— no they floated—down onto his bed. On top of the covers they kissed more. Their bodies slid against each other in time, working into a common rhythm that somehow came out of both of them with the same movements, the same time, the same cadence. They might have been in different groups in high school. They may have lived very different lives. But, something made her feel like they were made for each other and had only been waiting to find a way to each other. And then she couldn't take it anymore her body wanted him; she needed him inside of her. So she rolled onto her back and gently guided Steve on top of her. Smiling deeply she took and guided him into her. He started slow and gentle letting her savor every second. Though caught in the bliss, she realized that this was dangerous. She wasn't on the pill and he wasn't wearing a condom. Though she should have been afraid she trusted that he was clean. And though the time was right for her to get pregnant, she didn't care. There was a feeling of inevitability, that at some point he would do it, why not just let him do it now. Suddenly though, Steve slowed down and stopped. Without saying anything, she knew what was wrong. He was worried about what had just occurred to her. It seemed as if he were trying to formulate the question, to find a dignified and tactful way to ask if what they were doing was okay. So as not to make him worry how, she said she wasn't on the pill. When he asked her if he should put on a condom, she answered honestly saying that she didn't know. When she turned the question around to him, she was amazed and happy that he said he didn't know either. Neither of them knew where tonight was going or where tomorrow would take them. But they were both confused enough to not know if they should take the risk. She realized that she loved the man on top of her. She didn't want him to worry or have to change his life, so she said she didn't want to trap him and that he should put one on. He looked disappointed, but did it anyway. Nothing was lost though. After they started again the passion returned. It wasn't the animalistic passion that you hear is supposed to be part of great sex. Rather, it was as if their bodies were saying I love you to each other. It was as if their bodies were taking each other together and becoming one. It seemed trite. But it didn't matter, it was love at first touch. Steve did so many things to her that she couldn't remember each individual move. Together they were like a symphony; him using his body to play hers to make something beautiful. She didn't know how long it took but eventually she could tell he was tired. This time she pulled him down and gently rolled him over so that he was on his back. And then she got on top, kneeling up on top of him and feeling him go into her as deeply as he possibly could. Though she had never been on top during sex before, her body told her what to do. She slowly began to rock her hips and then began to pick up speed. She didn't use different techniques she just moved as best she could as best as her body would let her. After a few minutes she began to feel it, something she only remembered ever feeling from her hand before. The feeling welled inside of her and she arched her back trying as hard as she could to grind herself against him. At the same time his breathing began to get fast. As she began to cum, he drove himself inside of her as hard as he could. As she began to squeeze around him, she could feel throb after throb after throb. It was something she knew she'd be feeling again. Collapsing onto the bed, she rolled over to face him and realized he was facing her too. They looked at each other satisfied with what they had received from the other person, and with the gift they had given to each other. Though she wanted to hold him all night, she could see Steve struggling to keep his eyes open. She knew she should have been offended, but instead she thought that she had done her job well. As his eyes closed for what she knew would be the final time that night, she said, "you need your sleep, good night. But thank you." For a while, she stayed awake just staring at him, first lying next to him and then sitting up crossed leg and watching him. At some point, she lay down and tried to sleep as well, but she was too excited. Tonight had been everything she had ever wanted in a night. There was of course a fear that it could all be an illusion and that tomorrow would find her in a cab back to JJ's house, and then in her car driving back to the lonely empty house where she hid. However, something made her feel that wouldn't be the case. She couldn't sleep because she was excited. She wanted to know what tomorrow would bring, what Steve would say when he woke up. She just couldn't sleep. When she finally looked at the alarm clock, it was 4:30 AM. She didn't know how early Steve usually got up, but she wanted to have breakfast ready when he did. So she got out of bed and opened the top drawer of his dresser. She took out a pair of his boxers and put them on. They were a little loose but they would be fine. In his closet she found a button-down shirt that she thought would look nice, and put it on. In the bathroom she admired herself. It's not that she looked beautiful –her hair was messed up and probably smelled of sweat— but in the shirt and boxers she looked like she belonged to him. Quietly, she went to the kitchen and began to look at what she had to work with. It really wasn't much. There was almost nothing in the refrigerator but bread, butter, some coffee creamer, and a bunch of condiments. The freezer, on other hand, had a bunch of frozen meals. Obviously, Steve didn't eat at home a lot, and when he did, his diet was pretty bad. She didn't even bother to check the cupboards. The only thing she noticed she had to work with was a well-used coffee maker. By that point it was about five in the morning, and she thought there had to be someplace open where she could get something. On her way back into Steve's room to get her jeans, she noticed his laundry basket. There were a pair of sweatpants on top, and for some reason she decided that they were what she should wear. They were a little big, but she was able to cinch them together. Then back in the living room she found his keys he had used to let them into the building. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her wallet, and left the apartment. When she got to the lobby, the same woman who had been there the night before was sitting at the desk. The woman looked friendly, so she thought she'd go over and ask where she could get something. At first the woman seemed confused, but then smiling recommended she go to the supermarket around the other side of the building. As she was walking out the door the woman called over and said, "He likes bagels." The supermarket was pretty small, smaller than the ones she was used to back home. However, there seemed to be so many more things. Brands she had never seen before, vegetables she didn't recognize, it was like a culinary Christmas she wanted to explore. Instead, though, she found the bakery and looked at the bagels. She'd never had one before, it's just something they didn't have back home, so she didn't know what to get. After thinking about it for a minute, she decided to get half a dozen— cinnamon raisin, plain, onion, everything (whatever that was), egg, and blueberry. There'd have to be something he'd like in there. Next to the bagels there was a stand with coupons for Philadelphia Brand cream cheese. She guess that's what you had with the bagels, so she went to the dairy case got a box. On the way out, she decided that she would get some fresh ground coffee as well. She was back in his apartment by six. She found the plate, and quietly arranged the bagels on it. She put on the coffee and found two mugs and put them by the machine. She hoped Steve would let her stay for more than one cup, so she made a whole pot. Proud of herself she stood back and took in the wonderful smell that made any room feel like a home. When the coffee was done she poured herself a cup. Walking over towards the window, she noticed that the sun was beginning to come up. As it was a large framed window that took up the entire living room wall, there was enough room for her to sit down lean back against the frame and enjoy her coffee. So she relaxed and watched the sun come up while she waited for Steve to wake. Steve's awakening... Not even the sweet smell of coffee could make him feel better. He'd woken up with such hope figuring that Sara would be right next to him. He thought he would look at her beautiful face sleeping on the pillow next to him. He'd watch her for a while and then when she woke up he'd tell her how he felt. He would tell her that it had been the perfect night and that he didn't want it to end, he wanted her to stay, and he even might say that he loved her. But instead she was gone. At least she cared enough to put on a pot of coffee before she left. He took the door from the bedroom into the bathroom and began his morning routine. However, rather than take a shower, he thought he'd get a cup of coffee and think about things first. So taking the other bathroom door, the one that put him out right by the kitchen, he walked over to the coffee maker, grabbed the mug sitting in front of it, and poured himself a cup. It was strange that he would have left one out, as he always tried to make the kitchen looked tidy in case he brought somebody home. Then he noticed a plate of bagels sitting in front of the toaster. It's not something he kept in the house, so Sara must have gotten them. A soft "good morning" greeted him. Turning around he saw Sara sitting in his box window drinking a cup of coffee. She looked terrible and beautiful at the same time. Her hair was messed up and she looked like she hadn't slept. On the other hand she was wearing one of his favorite button-down shirts and a pair of his boxers. A pair of warm-up pants that he thought had been in the laundry lay on the floor next to the window. That's what made her look beautiful—the fact that she had made herself at home and it looked she belonged there. He walked over to the window, and gave Sara a kiss on the cheek. There was no need for a passionate kiss on the lips. That could happen later. Instead, the kiss was a good morning greeting to somebody who he hoped he could do the same thing to every day. When she smiled he sat down on the other side of the window and faced her. "Have you noticed how beautiful it is?" Sara asked. It was obviously a question, but was also a statement. She was telling him that he was lucky. He was lucky to be living where he was and to have just by chance ended up meeting her in that place. "No I haven't," He responded. "I never really had the opportunity to, until this morning." "You do know this wasn't my first time here, do you?" Sara followed. It never really occurred to him, but now he realized that she probably knew too much about the city to have been a complete stranger. When he said so, she told him that she had been there once before and started to tell a story about some high school trip and one night in Georgetown. She said how some old guy had taken her and her friend to dinner, and not asked anything of them afterward, which he decided was quite strange for DC. That's when, she said, she had fallen in love with the city. He asked her if it was as good as she remembered it. Smiling she replied that it was better than she ever could've imagined. Then there was an awkward pause. He wanted to tell Sara how things seemed different this morning. Last night he was in a bar not drinking because he didn't want to get depressed about how bad his life had turned out. This morning he would do anything to help her stay in the city as long as she would stay with him. But how could he say that to a woman who for all he knew might've thought last night was a one night stand. It seemed that Sara wanted to say something too. But he couldn't figure out what it was. So they sat there drinking coffee looking at each other hoping the other would speak first. In fact, it was Sara who spoke first. "Steve, I don't want to go," she said in a matter-of-fact but almost pleading voice. A smile came to his face. When he told her that he could help her find a place, she looked at him quizzically. "Steve, I don't mean I want to stay in the city. I mean I want to stay with you." There is the overused saying, the sum of all fears. However, this was the opposite. He felt that the sum of every hope he had ever hoped and the sum of all luck anybody could wish for had graced itself upon him. He wanted her to stay, she wanted to stay as well. Looking into her beautiful eyes, he smiled and said, "Then stay." In the movies Sara would've flown across the window box, throwing her arms around him, and no coffee would've spilled on the floor. However in this real-world she just sat and smiled. There was no need for a celebration, holding each other and crying, or passionate sex on the floor. It was just a statement that sometime between JJ's introduction and this morning they had both realized that they were meant to be together. There would be plenty of mornings for more passionate things to happen, but those would be other mornings. They each had another cup of coffee and a bagel, and started making a plan. Sara would give two weeks' notice at work and immediately start selling the house. Then she would pack up her clothing and whatever else she needed, and move down. As soon as they could, they would get a bunch of friends together and move her stuff down and into storage. Eventually they'd find a new apartment or maybe a townhouse. But that would be after she found a job. He was going nowhere, and that made him happy. Soon enough the phone rang, and when he answered, JJ was on the other end of the line. A quick conversation between Sara and her friend brought them back to reality that at least for a few weeks they would have to be apart again. As they waited for a cab to arrive, Sara tried to make herself look pretty. He already thought she was. However, he thought there was one more thing that would make this perfect. He went over to his linen closet where he kept extra supplies, and pulled out a toothbrush. Returning to Sara, he said, "This is yours." He couldn't have been happier when she smiled. A few minutes later, they were kissing in front of his building. Sara was about to get in a cab and head off to JJ's house. They had finally exchanged phone numbers and he felt like they could survive a few weeks apart. When he asked her to call when she got home, she smiled and said, "I don't know if I can wait that long." Sara's awakening... When there was a rustling in the bathroom, she knew Steve was awake. She hoped he'd appreciate the bagels and coffee, but still had a fear that he might have wanted her to leave. Her fear was doubled when he walked into the kitchen and didn't even notice her. It was as if he fully expected her to be gone. She wasn't even sure if he appreciated the bagels when he saw them. Quietly, so as not to startle him, she said good morning. When he turned around, Steve seemed both surprised and happy that she was there. It was as if he had expected her to be gone, but had not wanted her to be. She probably should have been offended that he would've thought that little of her, but instead she was just happy that he was okay with her being there. Steve came over, coffee in his hand, and they began to chat. They didn't talk about the night before. It was as if it was something that was bound to happen. No questions had to be asked no statements had to be made. It was what it was—a beautiful night shared by two people who loved each other. She was surprised that Steve hadn't realized she had been to Washington before. So she decided she needed to tell him the story so he would have some frame of reference as to why she was so happy to be there. Finally she had to confess to Steve that she wanted to stay. She thought saying, "I will love you forever and never want to leave your side," seemed like a little bit too much. Instead, she just told him that she didn't want to leave. She was deflated for a minute when he said that he would help her find a place and a job, but then she realized he probably didn't understand. So, looking at him as seriously as she could, she told him that she didn't want to leave him, that she loved him, and she wanted to stay to be his wife. It almost seemed natural when he'd told her not to leave. She was staring lovingly into Steve's eyes after a bagel and another cup of coffee when the phone rang. She was pulled back into a somewhat unwelcome reality when Steve handed her the phone saying, "It's JJ." Her friend was concerned that she didn't come back and didn't call, but was relieved to hear that she was okay. She wanted to tell JJ how happy she was in that she didn't want to ever leave the apartment, but she was talked into coming back sooner rather than later. The girls were going to go out for a late brunch and then see a museum. Also, she knew that that night she would have to drive back to her home, though she knew it would only be for a little while. Though she didn't want to go, she tried to make herself look presentable. It wasn't as if people wouldn't know exactly what happened, but she still had some pride. And then while she was fluffing her hair in the mirror, the greatest moment of her life occurred. Steve came up behind her and handed her a blue toothbrush. He smiled and said, "This is yours." Now it was official she lived there. About a half an hour later the cab dropped her off in front of JJ's house. Her friend opened the door and said, "It looks like somebody had a good time last night." When she said that it had been the best night of her life, JJ looked confused. So she thought she'd follow it up with an even more shocking statement. "Say, in a few weeks can I have some help moving?" Steve and Sara Revisited Hi, JJ Schaffer here. My husband Brian says I get too involved with other people's lives. He's probably right, but he also admits that a lot of times things work out for the best. I guess in a way I am a bit manipulative, but really do mean it with the best of intentions. So I guess now that you've heard the story you probably want to know what happened to Steve and Sara. Well, a lot of it is really pretty simple. Sara quit her job, sold the house, and move down with Steve. A few weeks after that, I went up to my old hometown, with my husband, my father, my father-in-law, and our old friend, Amos Jones. Then I rode in Sara's car back down to DC, while Steve and Brian drove a U-Haul truck. Some of Steve's friends met us at the storage unit where we unloaded most of Sara's stuff. At first it was a little hard for them to live together because, frankly, they really didn't know each other. And on top of that it took a while for Sara to find a job. When she finally did it was at a hospital further out in the suburbs. But the two of them persevered, and eventually Steve, his boss, and a couple of their other colleagues decided to start their own advertising firm. Steve convinced them that to save on office rent they should move further out into the suburbs. His ulterior motive was to get closer to Sara's work. Though Sara had always dreamed of being in DC and Steve thought that he was a city guy, really they were the perfect suburban couple. They made pretty good money and were able to buy a house. Then they had two girls and a boy, bought an SUV and a minivan, joined the PTA, and all that kind of stuff. As far as I know Sara never did look for her mother and Steve still doesn't speak with his family, but such is life. Things are never perfect. All we can ever hope for is our own personal happy ending. So far I have mine, and I'm happy that I could do a little bit to help Sara and Steve have one too. -End- Author's Note: This story is dedicated to a friend from high school. Until our last reunion I had not seen her since graduation. Though she didn't win, senior year she had received votes as "Most Likely to Get Married Young". In a rural school, that really meant something. At the reunion everyone exchanged Facebook invitations, but didn't really get to check out each other's pages. When I finally got to hers a few weeks later, I saw she had never been married but still believed that she would find true love. Though I'm sure she will never read this story, I wish her the best in her search. I always appreciate feedback. If you really like, really hate, or can see some improvements to my stories, send feedback to secretdcguy@hotmail.com. I am also looking for story ideas, so if you have one please let me know. This is my favorite genre, but I do others as well. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world contract HIV every year. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 82