Page 11 of The Square

Unfinished.

But it’s enough to keep things going. Because the dress is loose. Just a simple shift that hides what’s underneath with soft white silk. So when I pull my hand away from his hard cock, it falls. Right down to my hips, exposing the lacy, white, strapless bra that covers my breasts. And one more slight tug from him is all it takes to make the white silk slide over my hips and fall to the deck. It flutters for a second, catching the night breeze the way his shirt did, and then settles at my feet in a puddle of brightness against the dark.

He stops and looks at me.

And I wonder what he sees. A beautiful, young woman in matching white lingerie?

A friend? A lover?

His goddess who will save him—save everybody—when the time comes?

Or… does he just see me for who I am? The traitor.

I wait. Time stops, I swear it does. It gives him the gift of an eternal moment so he can make that decision.

Why is everything so slow? Why can’t we just go fast?

But I know why. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

We are in between things. In the middle of our story. And there’s no way to rush the end that’s coming.

We shouldn’t even want to because there’s a very high probability that none of us will be saved. That our enemies have another god waiting in the shadows. Some hero who will rip our world apart and tear everything to pieces.

And I’m just about to give up and turn away, accept this as an inevitable, forgone conclusion, when he reaches around and unfastens my bra.

It drops to the deck at my feet, joining the dress. I stare at it for a moment, holding my breath again. Because I was wrong.

And when I look up at him, he’s smiling. Eyes still bright and blue. Still filled with the power to save us.

I realize in this moment that time, or the universe, or whoever runs this miserable fucking place, is giving me a second chance and I should not waste it.

So I don’t.

I reach out, unbuckle his belt, unbutton and unzip his slacks, and slide my hand inside. Wrapping my palm around the thickness of his cock.

He growls a little and that makes the hazy dream world we’ve been stuck in for the last several minutes fade away. Brings reality back into focus.

And when he responds by palming my breasts, squeezing them with just a little more force than he should, the relief I feel is real.

He presses up against me so the length of our bodies are touching and now our kissing is what it should be.

Desperate, and heated, and filled with lust.

And our breathing is heavy, our excitement coming out in huffs as our tongues twist together. And he’s backing me up. I almost trip over the discarded silk dress, but there’s no chance of me falling. His massive arms hold me tight and carefully until my knees hit the back of the couch and I break our kiss so I can sit.

I gaze up at him, hoping he sees what I see.

My Danny. His Christine.

“Hi,” he says, laughing a little.

“Hey,” I say back, tugging the front of his pants down so I can pull his hard and ready cock out and hold it in my hands.

His fingertips are in my hair, then he fists it, tugging my head closer to him.

I open my mouth, eyes still tracking his, and take in the tip of his cock. Wrapping my lips around it, holding his gaze.

Then he gives in and sighs.