nibbles
Christina
Leila
Krista
catdog-runs-fast
Alien_Friend (what should I call you? Nov? Nove? Novy?)
and BLONDIE
for the feedback.
Also, to those people who showed up at my author's chat yesterday . . . an extra thank you, as I worried I might just be sitting in that chatroom talking to myself.
I had a really fun time talking to you guys.And now I'll get to the updating before I, like, pass out or something.
Oh, but before I forget, I included more music in this part. "Highschool Lover" by Air is one of my favorites, so try listening to it when you see
(And you'll see that right at the beginning of this part. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwbTGL1iXms&fmt=18 Okay, now it's update time.Part 21
Liz lay in bed with Max that evening, still recovering from her multiple orgasms and still trying to make sense of the Tess situation. Max seemed genuinely upset over the discord that had developed between him and his girlfriend over Thanksgiving, and Liz couldn’t understand why he was feeling that way.
“I don’t see what the problem is,” she admitted, walking her middle and index fingers over his naked chest. “So you think Tess wants to break up with you. Let her.”
“Let her break up with me?” Max grunted, clearly finding that unacceptable. “I don’t think so.”
“So this is a pride thing?” she concluded. “Fine, then you break up with her. Save face.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
He gave her a serious look and replied, “Because I don’t want to.”
She lay her hand down flat on his chest and tensed. “Why not? If you two break up, we can make up.”
“How can we make up?” he asked. “We’re not fighting about anything.”
“We could start fighting about this,” she warned him. “Max. Think about it. If you’re not with her, then we won’t have to sneak around. We won’t have to keep our relationship a secret anymore.”
“But don’t you love that?” He grinned. “Don’t you love sneaking around, keeping this a secret, lying, getting away with this right under their noses?”
She hated to admit that she sort of did.
“If I break up with Tess, our little encounters will lose some of their erotic appeal,” Max went on to say. “Affairs are sexy.”
“Stressful,” she corrected. “Sinful. But also sexy.” She couldn’t help but smile.
“Besides,” he added, “I kind of like having both of you at my disposal.”
“Disposal?” she huffed. Of course he had to go and say something like that, something to remind her what a jackass he was and always would be. Suddenly furious, she turned over onto her other side so that her back was facing towards him. She would have gotten right up out of bed had her legs not still been shaking from the orgasms.
“Something I said?” he asked.
“Yeah, you know what, Max? You’re an ass. You’re a bad guy. All you care about is power and control and manipulating people. You’re so greedy; I don’t think you have one honorable bone in your body. But, hey, on the bright side, at least you’ve got a great career ahead of you. Your father would be proud.”
Instead of distancing him with her words, she seemed to only have drawn him in more as he moved physically closer to her, spooning up behind her and draping one arm over her stomach. “Don’t be mad,” he murmured in her ear. “Be aroused. We’re naked and we’re beautiful, and we’re here together. And no one needs to know. And I like that.”
She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to moan when she felt his renewed erection pressing into the small of her back. She didn’t want to want him, but she did. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. And as much as she wanted to have him all to herself . . .
She turned over, looped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply.
This would do for now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael sat in front of his computer that night, looking for pictures of Maria in her Facebook albums. The end of the semester was drawing near for his painting class, and he still had no paintings to turn in. He really wanted to try painting Maria again since the drawing had gone so well, and he figured the fastest way of going about it was to find photos of her and paint replicas of the photos. He just had to find the right images . . .
He felt slightly weird looking through pictures of her, and he felt even weirder since she was in the bedroom making the mattress squeak with that Billy guy. They had come home around midnight, and they had been going at it for an hour now. They didn’t even bother to be quiet. It was . . . really something.
“Oh, yeah,” Billy groaned loudly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”
More squeaking bedsprings, followed by the distinct sound of Maria moaning.
“Oh, yes.”
Michael shook his head. It was hard not to picture what was going on when he was getting such an earful. And he really didn’t want to picture it.
“Fuck it,” Billy went on to say. “Fuck it, girl.”
Michael made a face and glanced toward the closed bedroom door. Maybe I should just get outta here, he pondered. Kyle was probably still awake. He could go over there and hang out. But if Kyle was hanging out with Tess, he didn’t want to interrupt that. Tess-time was of tremendous value to a guy like Kyle. I’ll just stay here, he decided. It’s my apartment, and they’ll be done soon. Hopefully. He went back to looking at pictures. None of them were quite right for his artwork.
“Oh, you’re a sex goddess,” Billy told her.
Michael raised his eyebrows, impressed by the colorful description. Creative, he thought. Whenever he and Isabel had . . . done that . . . well, he’d tried his best not to say anything for fear of saying something really embarrassing.
A pleasurable Maria scream rang out, followed by a few more “yeah” chants from Billy, unbearable mattress squeaking, and even the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. Finally, silence reigned, and a few minutes later, the door to the bedroom opened and Maria was pretty much pushing Billy out.
“That was great,” she said as she handed him his clothes. He was only wearing his boxers, and Maria was only wrapped in a sheet. Michael glued his eyes on the computer screen. He had gotten sort of used to Maria’s behavior, but this was just awkward. Just . . . awkward.
“You kickin’ me out, babe?” Billy asked her.
“For tonight,” she told him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, though, right? Same time, same place?”
“Sounds sexy,” he remarked. “I’ll be here. Hey, Mike, you don’t mind, right?”
When he realized Billy was addressing him, Michael looked up from the screen and said, “It’s not Mike; it’s Michael. And no, I guess I don’t mind.”
“He’s cool,” Maria assured her new man. “Not in the traditional sense, but he is.”
“Alright, thanks,” Billy said. “Great place you got here, man. Hot roommate.”
Michael cast a glance at Maria just in time to see her rise up on her tiptoes to meet Billy’s lips in a kiss. It wasn’t just a sweet little peck, though. It was a full on French kiss, tongues going everywhere, probably some slobber . . . not very romantic. But then again, they had met in a club and hooked up the same night. It wasn’t exactly the thing great romances were made of, and Maria didn’t seem to mind. She never did. She wasn’t like him; she wasn’t looking for that kind of thing.
Michael looked back at the computer again. Why couldn’t he find the right pictures?
“Alright, I’ll see you,” Billy said to Maria. “Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night,” she agreed. “Later.”
Billy threw on his t-shirt and walked out the door.
“God, he’s so hot,” Maria said more to herself than to Michael.
“You gonna start dating that guy?” Michael asked her, not sure why she would really want to. He wasn’t the best judge of male attractiveness by any means, but . . . what did she see in him that she couldn’t see in magazines?
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe. I don’t know enough about him yet. All I know is that Billy knows his way around the female body and wears extra large condoms. Well, the first time he wore a condom. The second time he just went without.”
“Oh, thanks for sharing.”
“Sorry,” she said, making her way towards him, still clutching the sheet to her chest. “I tend to do that sometimes, get way too detailed with my sex life, especially when the sex is just so good and—oh my god, are you looking through my Facebook albums?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Are you stalking me?”
He laughed and joked, “You caught me.”
She sat down on the desk and leaned forward to peer around at the screen. “What are you doing?”
He sighed, reluctant to admit it. “It’s not creepy; I promise,” he vowed. “I need to do my paintings for the end of the semester, and I wanted to . . . get some pictures of you to make into paintings. I told you it’s not creepy.”
“No, I’m flattered,” she said. “But what about that drawing you did of me while I was asleep? Aren’t you gonna use that?”
“No, I kinda wanna let that stay a drawing,” he said. Honestly, he was afraid that he would ruin it. It was perfect as it was.
“It is a good drawing,” she acknowledged. “Hmm. Well, you finding anything?”
“Uh, well . . . actually all these pictures kind of look the same,” he said. “You have a drink in your hand and a guy by your side and you look like you’re having a good time.”
“Little redundant,” she admitted. “You should look through my modeling album.”
“Modeling?” he echoed, confused. “You modeled?”
“Yeah, my senior year of high school. My mom didn’t approve, though, so it ended just about as quick as it began. But those are the best pictures I’ve ever taken. Here.” She leaned forward and took control of the mouse on his laptop. She did a little clicking and brought up a new album, one which was indeed full of photos taken by a professional photographer. “There you go,” she said.
“Wow, these look great.”
“Thanks.” She stood up again and headed down the hallway. “Have fun stalking me. I’m gonna go to sleep.”
“Alright,” he said. “I’m gonna do some painting, and then I’ll probably sleep on the couch.”
She turned around and laughed. “What you don’t wanna sleep under these sheets?”
“Not right now, no.”
She smiled. “I’ll wash them tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t.” He knew for a fact he’d end up washing them for her.
“Goodnight, Michael.”
“‘Night.”
He spent the next twenty minutes looking through a wide array of photos, trying to decide which ones to use. (He needed three. He wanted her to actually pose for his fourth painting, right in front of him the way Isabel used to.) It was hard to choose which photos to use. Maria looked beautiful in each and every one of them. They’d been taken a few years ago, so she looked a little younger, but not much. These were perfect. These were the pictures he needed.
It took him awhile, but he finally decided on three photos. Each would be challenging in some respect. The first was a head and shoulders shot. Maria was facing the side but turning her head to the right to look at the camera. The picture was very light in color tone. Almost everything about it was a very pale pink or cream nearing white except for the circles of black eyeliner around her eyes. Maria didn’t wear her make-up like that, but it looked good on her in the picture. It was a glamour shot. It would be difficult to paint, though, because of the pale coloring. But if he could paint it right and really emphasize her eyes . . . she had great eyes.
The second picture was a more natural one. Still head and shoulders, though a bit farther away than the last. Maria was smiling, laughing a little, tilting her head slightly to the side and playing with her hair, holding a couple strands out in front of her. That picture did more in the way of showcasing how she looked in day-to-day life, gorgeous and happy and full of life. It was a black and white picture, though, and he had never painted a black and white picture before. But he was determined to paint this.
The third photo was the one that jumped out to him immediately. In it, Maria was wearing a loose fitting white dress and sitting on a beige ledge, her hair curled loosely and falling over her shoulders. Her knees were up by her chest, and her toes were curled over the edge of the ledge. Her elbows were resting on her knees, and her hands were curled in loose fists and pressed against her forehead. Her face was only halfway visible as she glanced up at the camera from behind her hands. Her gaze made her look innocent and vulnerable. Michael had never seen Maria look like that before. Innocent, maybe, when she was sleeping, but never vulnerable, never insecure. But that was how she looked in the picture, and that was how he was going to paint her, no matter how difficult it was. He wanted his artwork to show off different sides of her, because there were a lot of different sides to show, whether she realized that or not.
He printed off all the pictures, each on a full sheet of paper, and got to work. He had three blank canvases set up in the living room, and all his art supplies (the ones Maria had given to him as a birthday present) were scattered about, ready to be used for the first time.
He stayed up until 5:00 in the morning, painting, working; and when he was exhausted and finished for the night, he fell asleep knowing that these paintings were the best artwork he had created since he had painted Isabel. Maybe they were even better than that.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria slept in the next morning until nearly noon. When she strode out into the living room, yawning and stretching her limbs, she was surprised to find Michael still asleep. He was lying flat on his back on the couch, still dressed in his clothes from the night before, a paintbrush covered in dark grey paint hanging from his hand. He was going to be so pissed when he woke up and saw all the little paint droplets on his white carpet. They’d come out, though. It was only grey.
“Let’s see what you painted, Mr. Big Artist,” she said quietly, making her way over to take a look at his work. She stepped behind his canvases, and she could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment when she saw his paintings. That was really her?
He had finished all three of them. She recognized the pictures he had used right away; they were three of her favorites. Everything looked so accurate, so real. And so beautiful. She had a very high opinion of her appearance, but to see someone else’s depiction of it . . .
“Wow,” she whispered, smiling at the variety he had captured in his paintings. Whether she was painted as carefree and happy, glamorous and gorgeous, or a little scared and insecure, she looked way better than the Mona Lisa. Maria had never understood what the big deal was about the Mona Lisa, or that Leonardo Da Vinci guy for that matter.
She treaded back over to Michael and sat down on the coffee table, smiling at him as he slept. “Oh, Michael,” she said, reaching out to push his hair off his forehead. “Isabel was an idiot to leave you.” But Isabel wasn’t there anymore, and that was probably a good thing. If those paintings were any indication, Michael wasn’t as devastated as he used to be.
She was just glad to be able to help.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Time to get sentimental, Max thought as he mentally prepared himself to get back in his girlfriend’s good graces. He knocked on the door and waited for her to open it. She would peer through the peephole, mentally debate whether or not to pretend she wasn’t home, and after a moment’s deliberation, give in and pull open the door.
He smiled when she did just that. “Hi, honey.” Nice one, he thought, self-congratulating himself for already sounding warm and fuzzy.
She flapped her arm against her side impatiently. “What’re you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” he replied. “Obviously. I missed you yesterday.” False. He hadn’t missed her one bit. Liz had been a great distraction nonetheless, though. Some of the things that girl did when she was on all fours . . .
“I did just fine without you,” she said. “I hung out with Kyle and Maria, had a really good time.”
“Kyle?” he echoed, immediately pissed that his girlfriend had spent time with another man. “That spaz kid?” Kyle couldn’t technically be classified as a man, though.
“He’s not a spaz,” Tess said. “Alright, he’s a little bit of a spaz, but he’s nice to me. Something you’re not.”
He sighed, suddenly a bit worried about where she was going with this. She wasn’t starting something up with that Kyle kid, was she? No, she wouldn’t. She was too hot for him; he was too lame for her.
“Can I come in?” he asked her calmly.
She groaned and stepped away from the door. “If you must.”
“Thanks.” He shut the door behind him and pulled up his mental script. He had rehearsed this so much, learned it verbatim. No stage fright. “Look, Tess . . . I know I was an ass on Thanksgiving. I put my dad and my dad’s business above the promise I made to you, and that was very wrong of me. I know your dad means a lot to you, and I should have made visiting him a priority. To be honest . . .” He laughed a little. To be honest. He cleared his throat and started in again, willing himself to keep it together. “To be honest, he intimidates me. I know he doesn’t like me.”
“Isn’t that hard to believe?” Tess muttered sarcastically. “How is it possible to not like Max Evans? Oh, I know. I know the answer.”
He bit his bottom lip and made a few minor changes to the script before continuing. “Look, Tess . . . I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with. There are times when I get way too greedy and way too proud, and Thanksgiving was one of those times. But it’s something I’d like to work on, if you’ll help me.”
She scrunched up her forehead. “Help you?”
“Don’t give up on me,” he said, reaching out to hold her hands in his. “I’m trying. I’m trying to be the boyfriend you want me to me. And I’ll get there eventually. I promise.” Load of bullshit.
“Is this a promise you intend to keep?” she inquired skeptically.
“Definitely,” he answered without hesitation. “Tess, bottom line . . . I’m sorry.” It killed him to say those words, but it also entertained the hell out of him to see that flicker of hope in her eyes, the one that signaled she was starting to believe him. “I didn’t mean to make a mess out of things, and I don’t wanna lose you. I love you.” And that was partially true. There were certain things he loved about Tess, namely, her gullibility and bedroom submission.
She sighed heavily, still seeming reluctant. “Do you really, Max? Because we’ve been dating for two years now, and sometimes it still doesn’t seem like you do--”
He silenced her with a kiss. Nothing too hard or forceful. Just a gentle, soft, yet insistent kiss.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmured.
He laughed on the inside. He didn’t even have to lie to her sometimes. She created the delusion all on her own. “Don’t you love me?” he asked her.
“Sometimes,” she replied.
“Like right now?” He grinned, and when she smiled back, he knew he had her. Hook, line, and sinker. So easy.
He kissed her again, brushing his tongue against her lower lip, turning up the heat a bit more this time. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body up into his as he kissed his way down to her neck to suck and lick at the skin there. He felt the need to mark her tonight, just in case that Kyle kid got any crazy ideas.
“Max,” she said, pushing him back slightly. “Can we . . . slow down?”
Slow sex. Great. He hated that.
“Can we just . . . can you make love to me?”
So she needed more reassurance. I can make lies to you, he thought, hoping that she would be up for a real throw-down after this. Liz was always eager to get pinned against the wall or his kitchen table or . . . both.
“Sure,” he forced himself to say. He went back to the gentle, soft kiss and eventually hoisted her up into his arms to carry her into the bedroom. He would make love to her, even though he didn’t love her. He didn’t love anyone. Except himself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria knew who was at the door before she even opened it, hence the reason why she opened it wearing only a bra and jeans. “Hey,” she said, grinning seductively.
“You look so good,” Billy growled, swooping her up in his arms. He attacked her with kisses, and she kicked the door shut with her foot as the stumbled through the apartment.
“We’re alone,” she told him, “so we can be as loud as we want.” Truth be told, last night, she’d been holding it in some just so Michael didn’t go deaf by choice.
“This morning I j-ed off and thought of you,” Billy revealed, shoving his hands down the back of her jeans to cup her naked ass.
“Oh, you’re so romantic.” That line wasn’t exactly a line out of Romeo and Juliet, but it would do.
“Shit, baby,” he groaned as her fingers worked to undo his jeans. “I’m hard already.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling playfully. “Don’t let this go to your head or anything, but last night was pretty much world-class fucking. Think I can score a repeat performance?”
“More than one.” He grinned and pressed his straining cock against her abdomen.
“Uh,” she moaned, struggling to get him out of the confines of his jeans. “What do you think? Shower or bed?”
“Whatever.”
She yanked his boxers down, causing him to wince as the fabric grazed his erection. “Bed,” she decided, “so I can be on top again.”
“Fuck yeah.” He started walking forward, urging her back towards the bedroom, but suddenly he stopped and turned to the side. “Hey, what’re those?”
“What?” She followed his gaze. “The paintings?” Why was he thinking about those at a time like this?
“Yeah.” He pulled up his pants and made his way over to look at them. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. After all that work she had gone through to get that cock out . . .
“Whoa,” Billy remarked as he looked over Michael’s artwork. “Wow. Hot stuff.”
“That’s a given,” she said, joining him behind the canvases.
“Who, uh . . . who painted these?” Billy asked.
“Michael,” she answered.
“He’s an artist?”
She nodded.
“Well, I’m a musician. Guess you got a thing for creative types.”
“Except I don’t have a thing for Michael,” she informed him. “If I did, I’d be trying to yank his cock out of his pants.” She tugged down on his jeans, frustrated as hell. “God, Billy, are these things childproof?”
He chuckled. “Tight-fit. So, uh, these are good. They’re, uh . . . they’re really good.”
“Aren’t they?” she agreed, rather impatient. She would be the first one to brag up Michael’s artwork if she weren’t desperate to get laid again. “I’m also really good, you know. In bed.”
He smiled at her. “You and Michael ever had a thing?”
“Again with the ambiguous noun.” She frowned. “I don’t know. Depends what you mean by 'thing.' Michael and I are friends. Always have been, always will be. You and I, on the other hand, are sweaty, interlocking bodies, and I like that.” She sneaked her hands up under his t-shirt, urging it upward.
“Well, he cares a lot about you,” Billy said, gesturing towards the paintings. “You know? It’s kinda obvious when you look at these paintings.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Now, remind me why you’re standing here talking about my roommate when you’ve got a half-naked me wanting to fuck your brains out?”
Billy growled low in his throat and shoved his jeans down forcefully. “Good point.” He lifted his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor. “You’re hotter in person anyway.”
She jumped up into his arms and crashed her mouth onto his as he carried her into the bedroom. Poor Michael was either going to have to crash with Kyle or spend night number two on the couch, because she and Billy were going to squeak bedsprings all night long.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael felt the fear settle in his stomach once Monday evening set in. Why had he agreed to this? He wasn’t a dancer. He’d never be a dancer. This advanced salsa lesson was going to be his own personal hell. But at least it would make Maria happy.
“Alright, here he is, the James Dean of our generation,” Kyle announced proudly as he came out of his bathroom with his hair slicked back, dawning a fake leather coat. “No?”
Michael shook his head.
Kyle took off the jacket and messed up his hair a bit. “Well, whatever. It doesn’t really matter. I have a feeling tonight’s gonna be awesome. You hear me? Awesome.”
“I’m dreading it,” Michael disagreed. “Do you realize we’re gonna have to dance?”
“Exactly. It’s dancing,” Kyle said. “It’s sex with clothes on. And who’s my sex—excuse me, dance—partner again? Oh, oh, wait for it . . . Tess Harding. So technically, by the end of the night, I’ll have lost my virginity to the girl of my dreams.” Kyle smiled proudly, seemingly pleased with his delusion.
“No, technically, by the end of the night, you’ll still be a virgin,” Michael informed him, happy to burst his bubble.
“So says you, but no so says me.” Kyle smirked.
“What?”
“Look, and I got some moves, too,” Kyle continued brags. “A little bit of this.” He snaked his body to the left. “A little bit of that.” He snaked back to the right before picking up the pace. “This. That. This, that, this, that, this, that.”
“Okay, stop,” Michael cut in as his friend’s motions became increasingly frantic and embarrassing. “You’re creepin’ me out.”
“Come on, man, I’m feelin’ the beat!” Kyle exclaimed before bursting into song with his dance moves. “You can get with this, and you can get with that! You can with this, and you can get with that!”
Michael shook his head and walked out the door. If Kyle busted out those moves at the salsa lesson, he was going to become the laughing stock of . . . well, of everyone.
He pushed open the door to his own apartment, and Kyle scurried inside after him. “Whoa,” he said. “It smells like sex in here.”
“Yeah, I know. Why do you think I’ve been hanging out with you all day?”
“What, did Maria finally resort to prostitution?” Kyle asked. “Is it a money thing, or is she just doin’ it for fun?”
“She met this guy named Billy,” Michael told him. “I don’t know if they’re gettin’ serious or what.”
“Huh,” Kyle said. “So Maria may have a boyfriend. You alright with that?”
Alright with that? Michael thought, confused. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I was just wondering.”
“Well, I’m fine with it.”
Kyle chuckled. “Right. So says you, but no so says me.”
“Alright, first of all, that’s not grammatically correct. Second, a catchphrase? That’s about the most annoying thing I can think of.”
“Oh, so says you, but no so says . . . Billy.”
Michael made a face. “No so says Billy? That’s even worse.”
Kyle pointed down the hallway.
Michael cast a glance to the side and noticed that Billy was indeed strolling out of the bedroom towards them. And he was fully clothed this time. Well, that was something new and different for him.
“Hey, Mike,” he greeted.
“It’s not Mike; it’s Michael,” he corrected for the umpteenth time. “And hey.”
“And you I don’t know,” Billy said to Kyle.
“Hey, I’m Kyle. I’m Michael’s friend, neighbor. Heard a lot about you.”
Michael gave him a look. What had he heard? He hadn’t told him anything.
“Like, uh . . . I heard you like to have sex,” Kyle added on.
Billy chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure you can relate.”
“Oh-ho, well . . .” Kyle smiled nervously. “Yes, yes, I can.”
“Is Maria gonna be ready to leave?” Michael asked Billy. “We’ve got this thing in an hour.”
“Oh, yeah, she’ll be ready,” Billy said. “She’s just waitin’ for her legs to start workin’ again. I wrecked that chick.”
Michael glared at him. Wrecked that chick? What kind of way was that to talk about a girl you were getting close to?
“Hey, so, uh, I saw your paintings the other day,” Billy changed the subject. “Of Maria. They were good. They were really good, man.”
Michael swallowed his growing hostility towards Billy and muttered, “Thanks.”
“I’m an artist myself,” Billy proclaimed. “Music, though. Maybe I should write a song about her.”
“About Maria?” Michael . . . didn’t like that idea very much.
“Yeah.” Billy grinned. “Gotta keep up with you, you know?” He chuckled and slugged him in the shoulder. It was probably just a friendly hit, but Michael felt like hitting him back. Something about this guy . . . he just didn’t care for him one bit.
Maria came out of the bedroom wearing a white t-shirt and panties. “Oh, Billy, you met Kyle,” she noticed. “Sorry about that.”
“No, he’s cool,” Billy said. “Well, listen, guys, I’d better be goin’. But Kyle, it was nice to meet you. And Mike, you take care of my girl tonight, alright?”
Michael just kept glaring at him. Since when was Maria his girl?
“Alright,” Billy replied for him, turning to Maria. “And I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Uh . . . yeah, I should study for my macroeconomics test, but after that . . .”
“Sounds good,” he said, giving her a spank on the butt. “See ya.”
“Later, babe,” Maria called.
“Bye,” Kyle put in.
Michael didn’t say anything.
“So that’s Billy,” Kyle said once he was gone. “Well, he seems . . . like he really enjoys having sex with you, Maria.”
“Duh, who wouldn’t?” She placed her hand on Michael’s shoulder and asked, “Hey, you okay? You seem sorta grumpy.”
“Oh, that’s ‘cause . . . salsa tonight. I’m not really looking forward to it.”
“Well, you get to dance with me,” she reminded him. “That alone should excite you to no end.”
He looked down at her and smiled. It did please him to know that he would be the one dancing with Maria tonight while Billy was off alone just . . . being alone.
“Hey, so, who’s all joining us tonight?” Kyle asked.
“Uh, Liz can’t make it. Marty can. His new boyfriend Francis can’t. And as far as I know Tess still can.”
“Oh, she can,” Kyle said happily. “She texted me earlier. Yeah, she texted me and not either of the two of you. She said she’s gonna meet us at the Union.”
“Well, Marty’s gonna meet us here,” she said, “and since we have to leave in forty-five minutes, I should probably take a shower and get ready.”
“Probably,” Michael agreed.
“I won’t make us late; I promise,” she vowed as she pranced into the bathroom and shut the door.
“Shouldn’t she be exhausted?” Kyle wondered aloud. “I mean, if Billy really did ‘wreck that chick,’ as he so eloquently put it . . .”
“Can we not talk about Billy?” Michael snapped.
“Yeah,” Kyle said. “Sorry, I was just . . . I was making an observation; Billy was a part of that observation. Ooh, someone’s touchy.”
Michael rolled his eyes, wishing he were in a better mood. “Hey, Maria!” he called into the bathroom. “Kyle’s living under the false assumption that salsa dancing equals sex. You wanna set him straight?”
Maria literally cackled. “So what, Kyle, you think you’re gonna lose your virginity tonight?”
Kyle shot Michael an annoyed look and said. “Metaphorically!”
Maria laughed again. “Oh my god, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Gee, thanks,” Kyle bit back. “Hey, guess what, Maria? Michael’s sick and tired of you and Billy making this place your own personal fuck-pad!”
Michael shot his friend an angry look.
“Yeah,” Kyle said, smiling excitedly. “I said it.”
Maria opened the door to the bathroom and poked her head out. “Michael, is that true?” she asked.
“What? No,” he said. “No . . . well . . . a little.”
She wrapped a towel around herself and walked back out into the living room. “I didn’t know,” she said. “Well, I mean, I kinda suspected, but . . .” She frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” he told her. “I just . . . I was kinda hopin’ you’d wash the sheets. That’s all. I was kinda wishin’ I could sleep in my own bed again, sometime this week. That’s all.”
“Plus it kinda smells in here,” Kyle added.
“Plus it kinda smells in here,” he reiterated. “Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maria apologized again. “I always get like this when I get a new boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Michael echoed in question. Maria hadn’t dated a guy since she had moved in with him.
“Well, yeah, I guess,” she said. “I mean, we’ve hung out four nights in a row, and I haven’t gotten sick of him yet, so . . .”
“Oh,” Michael said. “Well . . . that’s great.”
“You know what, though? Billy’s getting his own place. A house. We were talking, and he said I can go over there sometimes.”
“You were talking?” Kyle said. “You and Billy talk?”
“Yes, Kyle.”
“When, in between blow-jobs?”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, “but yes.”
“Well, yours is obviously a deeply intimate relationship.”
Maria ignored him and placed her hands on Michael’s chest. “Less Billy and Maria action in 521, starting right now. I promise.”
“Thanks,” he said. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she weren’t dating the guy, or if she were dating some other guy.
“No problem,” she said. “Now I’d better get in the shower if we’re gonna get there on time.” She skipped back down the hallway and into the bathroom, shutting the door.
“Hmm, maybe you should join her,” Kyle mused. “For a shower. Since you two shower together.”
“One time,” Michael reminded him. “And—how many times do I have to tell you?—it wasn’t like that.”
“Uh-huh,” Kyle said. “So says you, but--”
“Ah, god, stop.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael, Maria, Kyle, and Marty walked into the Student Union ballroom and stopped. There were a few dozen people there, all very young and in shape and, as far as Michael was concerned, intimidating. They girls were all parading around in skimpy outfits, not unlike the gold sequined ensemble Maria was wearing, and high heels; and the guys . . . Michael had to look away. Sickening. They were all wearing black pants that hugged the crotch and matching black v-neck shirts. Marty was probably in heaven.
“Crrrap,” Kyle remarked slowly.
“Oh, I think this looks fun,” Maria said. “Don’t you guys think this looks fun?”
“I think it looks fabulous!” Marty exclaimed, skipping forward. Maria laughed and followed behind her brother, grabbing Michael’s hand to pull him along with her. “Come on.”
Michael groaned and allowed Maria to pull him forward into the dancing fray. A few people gave him and Kyle weird looks. Obviously they couldn’t pass for dancers, whereas Marty and Maria could.
“Everybody should be stretching,” a woman standing up on the stage called out. Michael figured she was the instructor.
“Oh, I’m so flexible,” Maria chirped as she clapped her hands excitedly. “Okay, Michael, how do I look?”
“Good,” he told her.
“Is my outfit the cutest one here?”
He looked her up and down. The skirt was short, the top was a midriff/bra sort of thing, and the high heels really did something for her legs. It was a great outfit on her, and when he took a look at what everyone else was wearing, he told her the truth. “It’s the cutest one here.”
“Mission accomplished!” she exclaimed. “Okay, time to stretch.” She stood with her legs apart and leaned over to the left, bending down to reach her toes and press her forehead against her knee. “Is my ass showing?” she asked.
“Uh . . .” He casually glanced down. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
He laughed a little and glanced to his right at Marty and Kyle. Marty was in a full-on splits position, stretching like a professional dancer. Kyle was staring at him in horror. That had to hurt. Kyle grimaced and gently eased himself down into a sitting position, doing the V sit-and-reach stretch.
I can’t believe I let Maria talk me into this, Michael thought. And it was the week before finals week, too. He was supposed to be studying, not dancing. He was so much better at studying.
“Excuse me, sir,” the instructor said, coming up beside him, “but we’re asking everyone to stretch out before we begin. You can go ahead and use the stretching techniques you learned in your beginner and intermediate classes.” She smiled.
“Okay.” He extended his right arm across his chest and bent his left elbow to hook his left arm over his right forearm, doing the easiest stretch known to mankind.
The instructor smiled cordially, though she was obviously grappling with the knowledge that at least one person in the room wasn’t truly an advanced salsa student. “Very good,” she said, briskly walking away. “Alright, everyone, finish up stretching. We’ll be starting soon.”
Marty stood up from his splits position and asked, “Hey, isn’t Tess supposed to be here?”
“Yeah, she was gonna meet us here,” Kyle said. “She’s gonna be my dance partner. I’m gonna dance with her.”
“And lose your virginity?” Maria grunted, causing Michael to laugh a little.
“Well, she’d better get here soon,” Marty said. “I wonder where she is.”
“Maybe she got lost,” Maria speculated.
Kyle made a face. “On the way to the Student Union?”
Maria shrugged. “She’s not a good night driver.”
Just then, Kyle’s cell phone rang out shrilly. Michael made a face at the ring tone. Was that Britney Spears’s Womanizer?
“Oh, I love this song!” Marty practically screamed. He rushed to Maria, and the two of them started to dance, unembarrassed.
“Hello?” Kyle answered his phone. “Hey, Tess. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Oh.” There was a long pause. “Well, are you sure you can’t make it? It looks really fun, and we haven’t started yet.”
Sorry, man, Michael thought. As over-the-top and lame as Kyle was, his elation at the thought of being Tess’s dance partner tonight was real, and judging by Kyle’s portion of the phone conversation, that wasn’t going to be happening anymore. Maria and Marty seemed to realize that, too, because they stopped dancing and began to eavesdrop.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Kyle went on to say. “No, uh, I’ll . . . I’ll tell you all about it. Yeah. Yeah, you, too. Tell, uh . . . tell Max we said hi.”
Michael winced. That had to hurt. Hell, he didn’t even like hearing about Billy, and he didn’t think about Maria that way. At all.
Kyle closed his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket, looking thoroughly disappointed.
“Oh, Kylie, we’re sorry,” Marty said sympathetically. “It must hurt to have your heart broken. I wouldn’t know. I’m the one who breaks hearts.”
“I wouldn’t know, either,” Maria added.
“Because you have no heart?” Kyle guessed.
“Oh, very amusing,” she played along. “He must not be too devastated. He’s still able to make jabs at me.”
“No, I should’ve seen this coming,” Kyle muttered, still looking discouraged. “I’m not a lucky person. Stuff doesn’t go my way. Unlike it does for some people. Michael.”
Maria laughed. “Wait, you think Michael’s lucky? You’re not talking about, like, getting lucky, are you? ‘Cause that never happens.”
He shot her a look.
“What? It’s true.”
“Fine, maybe it’s true,” he acknowledged. “I don’t bring somebody back to the apartment four nights in a row to nearly break the bed and forget to wash the sheets.”
She put her hands on her hips and shook her head at him. “It always comes back to the sheets, doesn’t it? Fine, I’ll wash them tonight. Promise.”
“What’re you gonna sleep on?” he asked.
“The mattress.”
“Well, what’re you gonna sleep under?”
“I-we’ll sleep under a tablecloth.” She smiled.
“Sounds cozy,” he remarked. It was fine by him, though. He hadn’t slept in his own bed since . . . Wednesday night? He and the couch had become well-acquainted.
“Body heat,” Kyle muttered.
“What?”
“Oh, Kylie’s right,” Marty chirped. “You know, up in Alaska during, like, blizzards and all that jazz, people get naked and snuggle together to stay warm.”
Michael stared at him in confusion. What was the point of that?
Marty shrugged. “I’m just saying . . .”
Before any of them could say any more, the instructor climbed back up on the stage and demanded attention. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started!” She didn’t have a microphone, but she had a loud voice. And Michael hated the fact that he was going to be hearing it for two more hours. “Everyone find your partner.”
“Partner!” Maria exclaimed, jumping in front of Michael. “Now remember, I could be dancing with Marty, who’s undoubtedly a way better dancer than you. But I chose you.”
“Why?” he asked her.
“‘Cause I like you,” she replied. “Plus, it’s the only way of making sure you don’t flee in the middle of this.”
“Flee?” he echoed. “I wouldn’t flee.” Although that was a lie. He would if it got too bad. And then she would have to drag him back. And he would probably let her.
When he looked over at Marty and Kyle, the awkwardness was immediately apparent. Marty was smiling coyly, and Kyle’s disappointment was gradually turning into fear as the realization that he and Marty would be dance partners dawned on him. Michael couldn’t help but laugh a little. Kyle was definitely right about his luck. He didn’t have any.
The dancing itself was . . . horrible. Michael supposed he might have actually enjoyed it had he been able to do it, but he had no place in an advanced salsa class. A beginner class . . . well, he probably could have faked his way through that, even though he had two left feet. (Or twelve.) But the pace of this class was just too fast. The instructor demonstrated all the moves, one right after another, not bothering to stop and explain the “basic” moves, because everyone was supposed to already know the basic moves. Michael decided it was best to just stand there, move his feet a little bit, and hold Maria’s hands like a good dance partner would.
Maria caught on immediately, of course. There were a lot of things she had a natural talent for. She had rhythm and coordination and all the things advanced salsa required. Somehow, she was able to catch onto the steps immediately, keep up with everyone else, and even add her own little sexy flare to the movements.
“I’m getting it, Michael!” she exclaimed.
“Me, too,” he lied.
She spun around in his arms and giggled. “Woo-hoo-hoo!”
Kyle was in the same boat Michael was, only he was in that boat with a homosexual man. Marty was taking on the lady’s part of the dance, naturally, and he was owning it like no one else in the room. The guy really did look like a professional, like he had been doing salsa for years. He moved his hips better than most of the other girls, and he even shimmied when the ladies were asked to, even though he didn’t have any boobs to shimmy. The instructor looked fascinated by him. Kyle, on the other hand, looked horrified, especially when it was time for the real close hip action. Groin to groin, thigh to thigh . . . moves that required a particular amount of pelvic action were the moves that Michael thought were going to send Kyle running for the hills. But his friend continued to stick it out, much to his surprise.
The bottom line was that Maria and Marty were naturals. Of course. It was hard to decide whether Michael or Kyle was the worst.
“Sir, you’re not doing the moves I showed you,” the instructor said to Michael midway through the lesson, obviously frustrated with his lack of effort. “Step back with the right foot, forward with the left, and forward again with the right. Then reverse the movement. It’s a basic salsa step.”
He groaned and mimicked her footwork, putting in the least amount of passion and enthusiasm possible.
“You have to move your lower body,” the instructor said, grabbing onto his hips, trying to guide him.
“I can’t move my lower body. I don’t have a lower body,” he protested.
“Hey, just leave him alone,” Maria cut in, gently shoving the instructor away. “Come on, Michael. Just dance with me.”
“Follow her lead,” the instructor said. “She’s doing well.”
She beamed at him. “You hear that? Follow my lead.” She turned around, her back to him, and reached back to grab his hands. “Arms here,” she said, placing his hands on her waist. “Now just don’t be so self-conscious.” She began dancing again, slowing down her moves and sticking just to the basic steps so that he could follow along. “There you go,” she said. “You’re gettin’ it.”
He was pretty sure he wasn’t, but at least she was trying to make him feel better.
“Whoa, Michael,” she said a minute later. “I think you’re bigger than Billy.”
“What?” He glanced down at the bulge in his jeans and felt mortified. “Oh, god!” He quickly jumped away from her. He’d had no idea that he’d moved in so close in the first place, let alone that he’d . . . “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”
“Relax,” she said, tugging on his shirt to bring him back out onto the dance floor. “I’d be more concerned about you if you didn’t get a hard-on dancing with me.” She smiled and began moving again, facing him this time, keeping a bit more distance in between their . . . lower anatomy.
“This is embarrassing,” he said. He really didn’t feel right dancing with an . . . erection. He didn’t feel right dancing at all, actually.
“No,” she said. “That’s embarrassing.” She pointed at Marty and Kyle. Marty was dancing circles around Kyle, and Kyle was breaking out his stupid ‘this’ and ‘that’ moves, snaking from the left to the right and back again. He probably didn’t realize he was humiliating himself, but . . . it was probably a good thing Tess wasn’t there to see him dance.
Once the lesson was over (at last), Michael and Maria both eagerly jumped on the opportunity to tease Kyle.
“So, Kyle, how does it feel to no longer be a virgin?” Maria asked.
“What?” He acted as though he didn’t know what she were talking about.
“The dancing,” Michael elaborated. “You and Marty. You know.”
“Wait, wait, wait, no, that doesn’t count,” Kyle was quick to say.
Maria gave him a puzzled look. “Why not?”
“What are you three amigos talking about?” Marty asked.
“Nothing,” Kyle answered quickly.
“No, no, no. Kyle, you said that salsa dancing was just like having sex,” Maria said. “Well, you salsa danced for two hours straight. With my brother. So you know what that means.”
“You’re no longer a virgin,” Michael proclaimed, barely holding in his laughter. “Congrats.”
“Oh, I love deflowering cute boys!” Marty exclaimed.
“No, I was not deflowered,” Kyle insisted, following the three of them out of the ballroom, pleading his case. “You guys, I was—no! I was joking about the sex/dancing stuff. I was joking!”
“He wasn’t joking,” Michael informed Maria.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why it’s so fun to pick on him.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria squealed and jumped into bed with Michael that night. “Bed buddy!” She giggled.
And what a bed it was. Maria had finally followed through with her promise to wash the sheets, and now they were indeed lying on an uncovered mattress, using the tablecloth they had planned to use for their Thanksgiving dinner as a blanket. “Yeah, now that Billy’s not here, you get me,” Michael said. “Second best.”
“No, not second best. Just less naked.”
“Yeah.” Michael thought about not saying anything, but the words came crashing out before he could stop them. “So you’re really dating that loser now?”
“Whoa, sudden hostility,” she remarked. “What’s up with that?”
“Nothin’. It’s just . . .” He wasn’t even sure how to explain it. “Billy doesn’t seem like the world’s greatest guy.”
“That’s because he’s not the world’s greatest guy,” she came right out and admitted. “But then again, who is?”
“The Pope.”
“Oh, alright, I’ll just go out and score me some Pope action,” she joked, laughing.
He smiled, unable to laugh about something he was truly serious about. “I just think you could do better. That’s all.”
“Well, maybe I don’t wanna do better. Maybe I just wanna do Billy.”
“Obviously. That’s why we’re lying under a tablecloth.” It was going to be a chilly night in their apartment.
She turned over on her side and looked him right in the eye. “Look, Billy’s just a guy who I have a thing for, who in turn has a thing for me. And together we can just . . . have a thing. It doesn’t have to be this whole complicated, dramatic issue.”
He considered the notion. He and Maria were different people. Dating was a more casual concept for her, whereas he really took it to heart. “I guess you’re right,” he resigned.
“I just don’t get it. Why don’t you like him? I mean, has he done anything or said anything to provoke you?”
“I’m not provoked,” he denied. “It’s just . . . he calls me Mike. My name’s not Mike.”
“Well, then, you should hear some of the things he calls me.”
“I do. And it’s pretty obvious he only values you for your body.” But there was a lot more to Maria than that. She was a beautiful person inside and out.
“Michael . . .”
“I don’t know, I just get a bad vibe from him,” he cut in, “kinda like you get from Max.”
“Oh, no, Max is a way bigger loser than Billy. Trust me,” she said emphatically.
“Well, how do you know that? Do you even know Billy?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her expectantly, doubting that claim.
“He’s a senior,” she said. “A music major. His last name’s Darden . . . I think. And he likes it when I’m on top.” She smirked.
“Okay, you just proved my point.”
“Uh, well, no offense, but you dated Isabel for two years, and apparently you didn’t know her all that well.”
That struck a nerve . . . because it was true. He had never imagined that Isabel could cheat on him and leave him for some guy who had more money. But she surprised him.
“Sorry,” she apologized.
“No, you’re right. I got hurt bad when she left. And I just—I don’t want you to get hurt like that. Not by a guy. Not by anyone, especially not by Billy.”
“Michael.” She moved in closer and looked at him with reassurance in her eyes. “No guy can hurt me. I don’t let them get close enough.”
“Well, maybe you should,” he suggested.
She made a face. “Mixed message much?”
“I’m just saying, if you ever find a nice guy, someone who really cares about you and wants to make you happy . . . in arenas other than the bedroom . . . you might wanna let him get close. ‘Cause you deserve that.”
She smiled. “That’s so sweet. But you know, Billy could end up being one of those guys.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No, you know what? I’m gonna take your advice, Michael. You can’t judge a book by its cover, so I’m gonna find out what’s written on Billy’s pages.” She squealed. “Isn’t that a good metaphor?”
He started to feel a bit nervous. “Uh, Maria, what’re you saying?”
“I’m gonna get to know Billy better, see if he’s one of these ‘good guys’ you speak of. And I’m gonna let him get to know me.” She smiled. “Thanks for the advice.”
“What, advice?” he spat. “No, that wasn’t . . . that’s not . . . that’s not what I meant.”
She rolled over onto her other side and pulled the tablecloth away from him. “Goodnight, Michael.”
He stared at her back, then up at the ceiling. She was going to get to know Billy better? That wasn’t . . . this sucked.
“Goodnight, Maria.”
TBC . . .
-April (Next update Sunday!)
He's a very heart-able character.
(I hope that video works. I'm on a computer without sound right now, so I can't really tell. 
So I figured it's possible. It's probably just not very fun.
It's a little frustrating.
So bear with me on updates. I don't have exact dates set for when the next one will be. Check back periodically. I know I'll update again on 