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I brush her hair from her throat and kiss the soft skin. Xenia fills the tent with her desire. I nearly drown in it and even consider ignoring the food as we do more than sit on this mattress.
I kiss her with enough passion to leave my dick straining against my jeans. Forcing my brain to zero in on the food rather than my erection, I ask, “What the hell is this thing?”
Xenia just stares at me, lost in her lust. Finally, she looks at the sandwich thing and smiles at my confusion.
“It’s a chicken mozzarella panini.”
“And what’s in here?” I ask, tapping the plastic container wrapped to keep cool.
“Loaded potato salad,” she explains and pops open the top. “I thought you’d probably prefer potatoes to macaroni salad.”
I don’t know why her explanation makes me realize I’m in love with her. I think maybe I just like how she put care into her choices. What I wanted mattered to her.
“For dessert, I went a little girly,” she says and lowers her gaze. “I made heart-shaped cherry hand pies.”
“You’re trying to seduce me with food,” I reply, and her eyes widen in shock. “It’s working.”
Xenia takes a few long seconds to realize I’m messing with her. She settles down and unwraps her panini.
“Why did you ask about the kitchens?”
“You seem overheated a lot, but I figured you’d be used to the heat.”
“We had fans, and I drank a lot of water.”
“Because you had a toilet nearby?”
Xenia nods. “I don’t know if I have the balance to take a crap in the woods.”
Hearing her words, she covers her face and laughs like a loon. I like how she isn’t overly self-conscious around me. I think blurting out all her problems that day helped cut through any need to put on a show. Now, I understand her situation. She won’t be able to trick me in to thinking she’s a savvy woman with her shit in order.
As I enjoy the lunch she made for us, I ask a lot of questions about her old life. I want to be able to picture what she did with her time. Work seems to have been her main focus. Xenia tells me about how on her best days, she expediated dishes and worked the front of the house. On her bad days, she had to scramble between cooking dinner service and washing dishes. I can understand how a life with so many moving parts kept her brain busy enough to let time slip away.
“Do you miss that chaos?” I ask as she wraps up the part of her sandwich she doesn’t finish.
Xenia shows me the heart-shaped cherry hand pies. “No. Well, those first few weeks were too quiet. That’s probably why I fell into such a funk. But I’m starting to enjoy the idea that I won’t show up to work and face a hundred issues.”
“What’s the plan?” I ask, biting into the potato salad and imagining her cooking for me until I’m old and eating only soup. “If you’re not going to fight for the shop, what will you do?”
“I’m not sure.”
Her answer surprises me. Xenia always seems to have her mind on the future. I don’t know if her uncertainty is a good or bad thing.
“What are your options?” I ask as my muscles tense.
Xenia sets down the cherry pie and locks gazes with me. “I want to spend time with you. If I’m careful with my money, I won’t need to worry for a while. By the time money gets tighter, I should know what I want to do for a job.”
I’m hungry, and the panini tastes great. But I drop the sandwich and lunge for Xenia. She topples back onto the mattress and gasps. First in fear and then with passion. She wants me. Not the food or the fancy jobs or the Christmas cards. Her brain has latched on to having me, and nothing else will satisfy.
“Hobo,” Xenia moans when my lips suck at her throat.
I think of how she fought that name, wanting something more respectable. Once I explained my reasoning, she was fully on board. Xenia accepts my shit in a way few people really can.
My heart overrides my brain trying to shut down our fun. Now, my body can take control, and it’s never wanted anything more than to consume this woman.
My lips kiss, lick, and suck at every inch of her bare flesh. I can barely keep myself from tearing off her tank top and bra. I suck at her nipple poking through the fabric.
Xenia makes an unhinged noise, sounding afraid. But I can’t stop. I’m afraid if I do, she’ll run away. This is my last chance.
