Chris Komodo - Getting warmer

“You might want to light the candles on the coffee table.” His voice was indistinct, winding down the hall from the bathroom. “There's matches there somewhere.”

Somewhere. She poked at the drift of comic books doubtfully. The lights flickered again, going out for several seconds before snapping back on. Jane shoved the comics aside more enthusiastically. When she found the matches they were the kind that come in a little cardboard book, which she hated. She hated the thought of being stuck in the dark more.

A few moments of fumbling and she managed to get a match lit, then one of the candles before the electricity went off and stayed off.

There was a soft thump down the hall. Quickly followed by not so soft cursing.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Nathan came down the hall holding a much brighter light than her single candle. “Camping lantern,” he said with a pleased grin. Shoving the comic books into a loose pile, he set the lantern down and wiped his hands on his shirt. “You want something to drink?”

“I guess.” Jane reached down and untied her shoes. Her feet were freezing. Actually, all of her was freezing. She looked at the blanket on the back of the couch doubtfully. It looked clean. A cautious sniff. It smelled clean too, so she pulled it down and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Nathan returned and settled on the other end of the couch. “Sorry. If the power were on I'd make coffee. Instead your choices are soda.” He plunked a couple cans down. “Or Jim Beam.”

Common sense said she needed to keep away from the alcohol, but the thought of drinking anything cold was just too much. “Whiskey,” she said.

He poured two generous glasses, handed her one. “To warmer weather.”

Jane nodded and took a careful sip. “Speaking of warm. With the power off…”

“The radiator runs even when the power's off.”

“Ah.” At least they wouldn't have to huddle together to keep from freezing. She wasn't sure if the feeling in her stomach was relief or disappointment. Or whiskey.

“Sorry this turned into such a lousy date.” He was busy yanking his shoes off.

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Nathan looked at her and grinned dryly. “It was lousy to start off with, wasn't it?”

“Kind of.”

“I had a hunch it wouldn't work out.” He took another swallow of whiskey. “You're way out of my league.”

She stiffened. “I'm sorry?”

“How many of your past boyfriends took the bus to get to your first date?”

“Well…”

“Or read comic books.”

Who admits they read comic books. “I suppose… none.”

He nodded. “And I've never gone out with anyone as hot as you are.” He pointed at her, then at himself. “Not in the same league.”

Jane licked her lips. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the warm glow of the lantern but he was suddenly looking much more attractive than she remembered. “I see.” She took another sip of whiskey, larger than the last. “You're a smooth talker at least.”

“I guess.”

A flush was rising in her cheeks again and she turned her attention to the apartment. Not that she could see much, but there were a lot of bookshelves. “Are those all comic books?”

“No. Most of those are from my other hobby.” He poured a second glass. “Philosophy.”

“That's a hobby?”

“More like a college degree. But I found out one doesn't get paid to ruminate on the mystery of human existence and the soul.” A quick shrug. “So I got a job managing a coffee shop.”

“That's sad.”

“A little.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Of course, I didn't take philosophy with the purest of intentions, so I suppose it serves me right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I decided on philosophy because I thought it would get me laid.”

Jane blinked. “Did it?”

“Sometimes.”

“Really.”

“Sure.” He tossed back the last of his whiskey and set the glass on the coffee table. “First I'd take a girl someplace private. Like my dorm room.”

Like his apartment.

“And I'd set the mood with candles or music or just talking until she was comfortable.” He moved closer and his hand found her knee again. Warm. Gentle. “Then I'd lean in close and I'd say, Hobbes believed we're all just particles vibrating in the midst of nothingness. A tremor of life. Just chance bits and pieces banging into each other, heating up.” He was close enough she could feel his breath against her lips. “Just vibration and reaction.”

She cleared her throat and took a gulp of whiskey. “That worked?”

He shrugged, but didn't move back to his end of the couch. “College girls are easier.”

Jane thought about that for a minute or two. Tried to think about it but kept getting distracted thinking about Nathan instead. At dinner he had seemed nervous, geeky. A bit of the living-in-his-mother's-basement-at-forty-and-watching-porn kind of guy. Now he was more relaxed. And funny, which made all the difference. When he grinned, which he was doing more and more, it was hot.

“You okay?”

She looked up with a start. “Yeah. Why?”

“You're turning that glass like you're expecting it to make music.”

“Oh.” She tipped the last swallow of Jim Beam into her mouth and set the glass to one side. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Well, with the alcohol and the um, circumstances being what they are, I don't want you thinking I'm taking advantage of you.”

“Advantage.” He was clearly amused, mouth curling into the crooked grin that made her heart beat faster.

She laid her hand on his knee, mimicking his posture with her, then, before she could change her mind, slid it up his thigh. There was an immediate flicker of life against her palm as she pressed it against his zipper.

He chuckled, a deep and pleased sound. “What happened to kind of a lousy date?” He moved his hand toward her hip, working little circles with his thumb along the way.

“You changed my mind.”

Nathan paused, a serious quirk forming between his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

She leaned forward and kissed him. He had firm lips — warm too — and his tongue curled easily against her, teasing a soft murmur from her throat. She pulled away reluctantly and smoothed a lock of hair back from his face. “I'm sure.”

He slid his hands under the edge of her sweater and pulled it up over her head in one easy motion. Her bra took a moment longer, then he was kneading her breasts with strong, warm fingers. Sighing, she leaned against the pressure of his hands as he palmed her tits, slowly pulling her toward him. He kissed her again, not letting her go until she was gasping for breath. While she was busy appreciating his tongue in her mouth, he'd gotten a hand under her skirt and tugged her panties down to her knees.

Jane tensed as he stroked the inside of her thighs. I want this. The voice in the back of her head, the one that always made her wait until the fifth or sixth date didn't shut up. She tugged at the buttons on Nathan's shirt, eager for the heat of his skin against hers, eager for the distraction.

He pulled her panties all the way off, then nudged her knees further apart. Even under the shelter of her skirt there was a touch of cooler air against her pussy and she grabbed his wrists, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Exposed.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You're cutting off the circulation in my hands,” he said gently.

“Oh.” She let go. “Sorry.”

“What's wrong?”

“I'm just… stupid.” She pressed her hands to her face, trying desperately not to cry. “I want this. I want you. Very much. But I don't normally do things this fast.”