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I pull into the underground garage of my place and lead her to the elevator that will take us up to the penthouse. As the elevator makes its way up to my floor, I get a chance to take in the aroma of her perfume and admire the way she is handling my intensity. Reaching the penthouse floor, the doors open, and I put my hand on her back to guide her out and into my home.
“This is where you live?” she asks.
“Come on, Frannie. I’ll give you a tour while I heat up dinner.”
“Dinner? You actually have a plan for this?”
“Of course, I do. The first stop is the kitchen,” I say, leading her into the open space. Stopping in front of the oven, I turn it on and set the timer for our dinner. “May I offer you a drink?”
“No thanks. I’ll wait until we eat.”
“Sure. So, this is the kitchen,” I say as my right hand sweeps the room.
“I got that, Baron. Now show me the rest,”
It doesn’t take long to give her a quick tour of the remaining rooms. When you live in the penthouse, it’s not like living in a house. For one, there are fewer rooms but a larger amount of space in each one. Unless you actually have the complete top floor of a building. Showing her the remaining rooms and space, except leaving out the bedroom is the easiest plan I could think of. I am afraid if I take her in there, that we’ll never leave the room.
The sound of the timer going off has me leading her back towards and into the dining room where the table is set. Going over to the table, I pull the chair out to the right of mine for her to sit down.
“I would like for you to sit here if you please. I’ll only be a minute and will be back with the food. May I get you something to drink now?”
“Soda, if you have it,” she replies.
“OK. I’ll be right out with your drink.”
Going back into the kitchen I turn the timer off, grab the potholders, and pull our dinner from the oven. Our dinner consists of lasagna, a salad, and garlic bread. Taking the meal to the table leaves me with no hands free and I have to go back for the drinks. Once I am seated, we begin to eat.
“Ok, now it is your turn to tell me about yourself,” she says between bites. I hate talking about myself, but I figure she needs to know.
“I spent a good amount of years growing up in a group home in downtown Chicago. My memory of anything from before the group home is not there. One day when I wasn’t taking precautions getting around that morning, the Roades stopped in at the home and ended up shaking things up. The next thing I know, my brothers and I are adopted before we could blink. What about you?”
“Well. I am from Canada. My parents passed away three years ago,” she says. I interrupt by grabbing her hand and sliding mine underneath hers.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Frannie. That must have been terrible for you.”
“It was. It still is. I miss them every day. Anyway, they didn’t leave me with anything, but my guidance counselor at school recommended a foreign exchange program she knew of for the University Illinois of Chicago. I took it, but it doesn’t cover anything. That’s why I work at the restaurant and live with my best friend, Esther. Esther and I met at school. I don’t know what I would do without her, to be honest. She lets me buy groceries and won’t let me do more than that. It’s a godsend really, but I don’t want her to think that I am taking advantage of her.”
“I am sure she doesn’t think that,” I assure her.
“Oh, listen to me going on and on.”
“I could listen to you talk forever, Frannie.”
“I am through eating,” she says. I’ve been done for a while but have been content just listening to her talk. “Are you taking me home now?” she asks looking up at me.
“If that’s what you want,” I say thickly.
“That’s not what I want.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I move my chair back quickly, causing it to screech on the floor loudly. Standing, I hold my hand out to her, which she takes. Starting down the hallway to the previously avoided bedroom, she stops and tugs on my hand.
“What about the mess?”
“I’ll worry about that later,” I tell her and resume walking.
In the bedroom, which is predominantly full of the massive bed, I pull her in front of me. Without her boots on she is short, barely coming up to my chest. I peel her leather jacket off and toss it away. The red shirt she has on goes next. She’s not wearing a bra, so I lower my head and wrap my lips around her nipple. Teasing and coaxing it to a hard peak, then doing the same to the other one. Her moan goes all the way through me. I peel her skin-tight pants and panties down her legs, where she kicks them away.
