R. Ruggiero - Brushfire Plague

“Maybe they weren’t armed,” he defended.

“You are too damned kind. Since two days ago, every other man on the street has a gun with him. Some of them had to be armed. But, they just stood aside. A damned women round up! Yippee-kai-yay!” She mimicked a lasso.

“OK, I give in! You’re welcome.”

“Thank you. Was that so hard? That’s all I wanted from you,” she said, tilting her head to the side and looking up at him. The top few buttons on her shiny gray blouse were undone and a hint of cleavage drew his eyes. Her firm breasts pressed against the blouse as if they wanted to push the next button open, as well. He felt the cushions move as she edged closer to him.

Hovering at the edge of touching hip to hip, she bit her lower lip. Her lips were red, full, and moist, “Well, it’s not the only thing I wanted from you.” Her hand was on his thigh and she leaned in to whisper into his ear. “I hope you won’t think this is too forward. I need something else from you. Will you hold me tonight? I can’t bear to be alone. Not tonight.” He felt the wetness of a tear fall onto his neck as she nuzzled her nose against his ear and recalled the intense connection he had felt when they’d met earlier. Her hand squeezed his thigh, moving to the inside. Her right arm snaked around his waist and pulled her closer to him.

Cooper’s head whirled. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He had had other women come on to him, some very strongly, but never in his living room. And never one so beautiful. There was no denying what feeling stirred now. This was pure lust. The mix of adrenaline from what had happened earlier in the day, the whiskey, and her attraction was overpowering. He was drawn to her, powerfully so. He wanted her, right now, on the couch, and yearned to bury himself inside of her. He wanted that connection with her. He felt as if he needed it.

He felt her moist, full lips on his neck, delivering a gentle soft kiss, with a seductive hint of suction. “Just hold me. Please.” Her hand slid further up his thigh.

He pulled her head away from him. His eyes furiously swept over her. He couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to run his hands over her, feeling every part of her firm body. Her eyes tantalized him again. Wet from her tears, they beckoned him. They beseeched him to come in and become lost inside of her; lost inside the moment. He ached to pull her in close and give in to what he desired.

But I won’t. He moved away from her, breaking the spell. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. My boy is upstairs and my wife, who I still love, is not a few days gone.”

She pulled back, her arm uncurling from his waist and withdrawing from his thigh. He couldn’t help noticing how she squeezed his waist as she did so. She averted her eyes towards the floor.

“It goes without saying that I want to. But, I just can’t.”

Her face looked crestfallen, “You’re a rare man, Cooper Adams. Will you at least give me a hug before we turn in? I could really use that.”

“Of course. And, you can tease me twenty years from now about how I missed the opportunity of my life to spend the night with such a stunning woman,” he smiled at her.

They stood up, drained the last of their drinks, and embraced. She pressed herself fully into him. Her grip was strong, one arm around his lower back and the other going over his back with the hand gripping his shoulder. He squeezed back. Her left leg slid in between his and she pressed it along the inner side of his right leg. For just a moment, her thigh pressed against his groin, arousing him again. She never gives up. Before he could pull away, she withdrew her leg and resumed a wider stance.

They stood in this embrace for a long time. Their breath synchronized. The intense physical attraction faded and it felt like earlier today. He couldn’t help the connection he felt towards her. She must have felt it too. She caressed his back, moving her hands from time to time. He didn’t grow impatient in her arms. It just felt right to him.

When she pulled away, he felt a twinge of regret. “Thank you. I needed that,” she breathed.

“It was my pleasure. You give good hug, Ms. Julianne Wheeler.”

She smiled impishly at him, “It’s not all I’m good at, Mr. Cooper Adams.” With that, she turned and sashayed her way to the bathroom. She exaggerated the swing of her hips as she did so.

He looked after her, admiringly, and shook his head in silent, amused, appreciation.

A voice startled him awake well past midnight. Cat-like, he slid out of the bed and with shotgun already in hand, crouched at the ready. There it was again. Female. From the next room. It must be Julianne. He crept forward on his toes silently and quickly. He pushed the door fully open and took several steps into the loft area that adjoined his bedroom.

Julianne lay on the air mattress that they kept on hand for guests. He lay the shotgun against the wall. She was restless, moaning unintelligible words and phrases. The blanket had been pushed off of her. She was wearing an oversized red flannel shirt that he had loaned her. It came to just above her knees. Now, it clustered just below her waist, failing to conceal her sapphire blue lace panties. Her well-muscled legs moved in slow tandem, rubbing against each other.

He stepped next to her, grabbed the blanket, and draped it over her. As the blanket dropped onto her, her voice startled him.

“It’s been worse than you thought,” she said wearily, deep sadness clouding her voice.

Cooper looked at her quizzically. Her eyes were half open. He almost started to ask her, “What was worse?” before he realized she was still asleep.

She moved again, rolling over so he could no longer see her face.

“So much worse than you said it would be,” each word catching in her throat.

Cooper pivoted and resumed his position at the foot of the air mattress. Minutes crept past and all he heard was her breathing rhythmically. She had fallen back into deep slumber. Cooper’s mind buzzed with questions. What was she talking about? What was worse? Who was she talking to in her sleep?

The mystery tantalized him. After five minutes of relative silence, he knelt down and lightly tickled her foot.

She stirred again and rolled onto her back. Her half-open eyes stared right at him. For a moment, he was terrified that she had awoken and would ask what the hell he was doing. But, the eyes were unmoving. He let out a silent sigh of relief.

She hissed angrily, “We shouldn’t have done it, don’t you see? It’s cost too much.”

Surprised by her angry outburst, he stood up and backed away. She shifted again, onto her right side and resumed breathing steadily. He watched for several more minutes, but she did not speak again. He decided not to risk disturbing her again, despite how his mind was alive with questions about what she’d said. A ray of light from the streetlamp caressed her face. A full minute later, Cooper realized he’d been staring at her. He shook his head to clear his mind and went back to bed. His alarm clock told him it was just after three in the morning. He couldn’t sleep, as questions about what she’d said, and the powerful emotions she had stirred pestered him.

Around five o’clock he gave up and went downstairs to begin preparing breakfast.

Cooper had almost finished making a breakfast of French toast, sausage links, and hash browns when he heard the creak of the stairs as someone descended. Louder than Jake. It must be Julianne. He was setting a pitcher of orange juice onto the table when she rounded the landing and stepped into the dining room.

The long flannel shirt he had let her borrow hung just below her knees. Her deep black hair was only finger-combed. She brushed the left side behind her ear and looked up at him. Her eyes were alight. Powerful as black holes, they pulled him in, and seemed to go on forever.