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She wanted him. She wanted him now. She arched her back and lifted her hips. Just enough. Just enough to let him know he could.
So he did. Romeo deftly hooked his fingers around the silky straps of her panties and the waist of her jeans and slipped them off. Now she was exposed. Naked, vulnerable, and excited beyond belief.
He paused. Just for a second. Just long enough to take her in. The sight of her. The scent of her. Then he kissed her. There. And as the fireworks blew off inside her mind Ant gave herself to him, willingly, eagerly…
Romeo and Ant made love that night. They made love all night. They loved with the tenderness that comes from sharing something very rare. And they loved with the unbridled animal excitement that comes from enjoying something very new.
At times things were hushed, sensual, intense. Punctuated only by breathy gasps as fingers stroked, lips kissed and sweet promises filled the night. At other times things got crazy. Real crazy. As Romeo and Antoinette screwed like wild monkeys, hanging from the chandeliers and hitting at least half of Prince’s famed twenty-three positions in a one night stand.
When it was all over, and the sweat had dried, just before the sun came up, they passed out, exhausted, in each other’s arms .
When morning came Romeo woke to find he was alone. Disappointed at first, he quickly found a note Ant had left by his bed. It was a small white piece of paper she must have torn out of one of his sketchbooks. Inside the fold was a single lipstick kiss. Her kiss.
He shuffled toward the bathroom, but stopped along the way to take in the aftermath of the night before. He could replay the entire evening by what was left behind. The paint, the drop cloth, the smear of green on his couch…
The candles he had set out had burned themselves down and melted onto the coffee table. At least they hadn’t started a fire. Though they’d come pretty close at one point when she climbed on top of him and accidentally kicked one to the floor.
Wine glasses, the remnants of a midnight bowl of pasta they’d made for themselves… Cooking together, side by side, half naked in the kitchen. The things they did with the butter that could never be repeated in mixed company.
It had all been so hot, so passionate, so primal. The pure animal pleasure of the experience drove everything he did. His needs, her needs, fueled his every move. But it was the connection between them that truly blew his mind.
It was a connection deeper and more spiritual than he had ever felt before. A subconscious link that had synced the two of them together last night. Together as one. And now, this morning in the clear light of day there was one thing he was absolutely sure about. She was the one.
He took it in. He took it all in and smiled and thought, life is good.
An hour later, Romeo was on his way to Monty’s. A cup from some hipster coffee joint called Buhz in his hand. He rounded the final corner only to find most of the staff angrily working outside.
“Son of a bitch!” yelled Marco as he scraped his knuckles on the brick front wall of the building. Blood mixed with soap suds and dripped like long tears down the facade.
“What the…?” Romeo mumbled to himself.
As he got closer he could see what the. Someone had spray painted all over the front of Monty’s. Sloppy streaks of white and black paint spelled out provolosers and cheez whiz rules!!! and monty’s sux .
“Do you believe this shit?” Marco yelled.
“What happened?”
“What happened? What do you think happened? Those Cap’s assholes spray painted all over the front of the store. And now we gotta clean it up.”
Benny dipped a stiff bristle brush into a sudsy mop bucket and brought it to the wall. He scrubbed aggressively, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Turns out paint doesn’t come off so easy.
Romeo wanted to ask, are you sure it was them? But, really, who else could it be? The writing was literally on the wall.
“I can’t believe it,” he said.
“Believe it,” said Father Frank through pursed lips and a cloud of cigarette smoke as he tried to scrub away the exclamation marks.
“Son of a bitch!” yelled Marco as he scraped his fingers yet again. “It was that Tyler douche. The one from the other night. Had to be.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know? Are you kidding?”
Romeo didn’t answer.
“I’ll tell you what though,” Marco continued. “That joker’s not gonna get away with this. We’re going out tonight.”
“Tonight?”
