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I didn’t think that was going to do the trick, but at a loss, I nodded. “Sure,” I said, hoping that the sadness didn’t translate to my tone. “Yeah, we’ll sleep on it.”
But Simon saw through me, like he always seemed to do.
“Hey,” he murmured. “We’re going to figure this out, Catya, we will.”
“I really want to believe that’s true.”
A long beat stretched between us as my words hung like a neon light over our bodies, flashing horrid shades of red where the sunlight had been minutes before.
“Well, we better get out of here,” he said with amusement. “Before some poor runner gets the shock of their life.”
I giggled. How had he managed to pull me out of my dourness so quickly?
“Imagine that,” he continued. “A guy’s just peacefully jogging through the woods, thinking about getting a new cell phone off eBay, maybe wondering if he looks good in his shorts or if he should get a tighter fit and then all of a sudden, he trips over two naked people.”
“I think he’d be thrilled,” I decided. “It would give him something to tell the men at work he’s always trying to impress.”
“What should his name be?”
“Hmm… Fred. Total Fred.”
Simon grinned. “Yes, Fred, perfect.”
We sighed, happy once more, and laid back in one another’s arms.
I was forced to disturb the peace. I asked, “What time do you think it is?”
Simon raised and lowered his shoulders. “No idea. I’m sure they teach you that in Boy Scouts, but there wasn’t much need for the Scouts in the wilds of London, unless I suppose you get lost in the mile or two of Hyde Park.”
With a groan, I broke away from his hold and scampered over to my pants, pulling my phone out of the pocket.
“Shit!” I exclaimed.
“What’s up?”
“Class.” Damnit. Somehow, I’d completely forgotten all my real-world responsibilities. I guess that was what happens when you get such good dick that you’re transported to another planet.
He sighed, “Do you have to go? I was thinking maybe you could just, I dunno, stay here with me, and I could properly eat your pussy this time.”
Between my legs, I felt a renewed dampening. Stupid body — such a traitor.
Aloud, I managed to reply, “Sorry, gotta go,” and shot him an apologetic look.
“Oh fiiiine,” he returned, but it was clear that he wasn’t actually annoyed. “Some other time?”
“You bet your pasty ass some other time,” I chuckled.
“When can I see you again?”
“Uh, practice?”
He sounded genuinely surprised when he said, “Y’know, I’d actually forgotten all about practice. Funny, right?”
I shook my head, amused at his daffiness.
“So, tomorrow then,” he clarified — we didn’t have practice today.
“Tomorrow,” I agreed.
“I’ll be thinking of you,” he said. He rolled off the ground and sprung to his feet, in a move even more lion-like than his hair. Once upright, he added, “When I’m in bed tonight, that is.”
I’d pulled on most of my clothes and though class was calling, I paused a moment to traipse languidly to him and query, “What will you be doing in bed?”
Simon reached out and grabbed me by my exposed sports bra, using its stretchy fabric to tug me to him.
“Dreaming of fucking you,” he growled. With no warning, he reached around my side and landed his hand on my ass, where he pinched a piece of the flesh. My pussy throbbed.
“I’ll be dreaming of you,” he said. “And touching myself.”
“Then let me give you something to remember,” I replied.
There wasn’t much time left, just enough for me to slip my own hand down the front of his pants and wrap it around his cock which had stiffened once more.
“You can’t do that if you’re not gonna finish what you start,” Simon growled. “Play fair.”
My lips were a hair’s width away from his, enough that he could feel my breath on the surface of his skin as I replied, “I don’t play fair.”
With that, I whirled away from him, slipped on my sneakers, and took off running in the direction of the exit. His laugh echoed through the forest in the wake of my speedy retreat.
For all my effort — okay, it wasn’t a ton of effort, but cut me some slack — I was still five minutes late to class. The professor looked more surprised than anything. Like I said, I was the kind of girl who was ten minutes early. She gave me a head gesture as if to say, ‘is something wrong?’ How might I explain to her, a near stranger, that I couldn’t be with the man I wanted to, and everything was stacked against us?
Instead of trying to tackle that mess, I mouthed ‘sorry,’ and took my usual seat in the front row.
Class flew by. I paid attention, in part because of the adrenaline rush that had come with running late, and in part because Simon’s, er, skill, had left me feeling very blissed out, like a Beverly Hills housewife just returned from a yogacation, which is a vacation, but with more yoga and usually more booze. For the first time in a while, my notes were actually coherent, thank God.
