Between the Lines (7 page)

Gabe – 9

I stretch
and glance around the room. Ellen isn’t in bed, but classical music can be
heard coming from the living room. Sunlight is streaming in the windows and I’m
reluctant to leave this bed. I slept better last night than I have in a really
long time. It did take time to fall asleep though. My cock certainly wasn’t
interested in slumber, not with Ellen cuddled around me, her head on my chest,
but exhaustion finally won out. She was asleep a lot earlier than me, and she
apparently was awake earlier too.

Even
though I wanted nothing better than to bury myself in her last night, I
couldn’t go there. Her body began to tense in the taxi and she got all kinds of
nervous once we got back to the apartment. I’m not sure if it was fear or if
she was having regrets about asking me to stay. She was as skittish as a new
colt in the kitchen, and I really did think she was about to hyperventilate. As
much as my cock hates the idea, it’s best to wait. Hell, we might not fuck for
weeks, and that’s okay.

Though I
really hope it isn’t weeks. That’d be an entirely different torturous pain and
my knee is enough as it is. 

Pushing
the covers aside, I get out of bed and test my knee before putting all of my
weight on it.  Not nearly as bad as yesterday. I’ll just pop some Ibuprofen and
ice it before we head out to do whatever it is we are going to do. I stop in
the kitchen before going to the living room, and make a cup of coffee. The
Keurig is full of water and I pick a dark roast.

Steaming
coffee in hand, I make my way to the living room, but she’s not there.
Reflection off of the windows has me turning and I’m instantly mesmerized.
Ellen is in tights and a leotard, with a shear, pink, short skirt. Her hair is
pulled back in a tiny bun and she’s wearing ballet slippers. Every muscle in
her body is outlined as she moves, twirls, jumps and bends. My mouth goes dry
and my dick comes instantly to attention.

Of course
she’s a dancer. That explains her posture and graceful movements. Not once has
she slouched and even when she skipped last night, there was an elegance to it.

She
hasn’t seen me yet and I don’t want her to or she might stop. I was right in my
first assessment that she has strong thighs, but the rest of her is as well. A
person can’t dance like that without having every muscle in shape.

Ellen
bends, her nose practically touching her knee, pointing her toe, arms raised in
back, curved in an arch, her fingers pointed. She’s also the most limber woman
I’ve ever seen and my cock begins to ache. Damn. Now is not the time to be
lusting after her, but I’d sure like to sweep her up and toss her on the bed
right now and kiss every inch of her from head to those delicately pointed
toes.

She turns
her head, looks in the mirror and freezes. Her face turning a lovely shade of
pink. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long
enough.” I grin. “I could get used to this being the first thing I see in the
morning.

She looks
away as if embarrassed and stands.

“I didn’t
know you danced.”

Ellen
grabs a towel and wipes the back of her neck. I hadn’t even noticed she was
sweating, not that things like that bother me.

“I did, a
long time ago. Now, it’s my form of exercise.” She releases the bun and shakes
out her hair. “I’m going to grab a shower and then we can decide what we’re
going to do.”

She’s
just going to walk away, as if I didn’t watch something spectacular. Then
again, it might be best or I’d be stripping her right now. Damn that dancing
was hot. Does she do that every day and how can I arrange to be present?

I hear
the shower from the bathroom off the room she had planned on sleeping in. I
could use one too and drain my coffee before heading to the other bathroom.

Ellen

Why is he
awake? I thought for sure he’d sleep a lot later. I know he didn’t fall asleep
right away. A few times I woke up and could tell he wasn’t asleep yet, so I
assumed he’d sleep the morning away. Otherwise, I would have never put on my
leotard and danced. Now he knows how skinny I am and that I don’t possess any
boobs.

Shit.
He’ll never have sex with me now. Sometimes I feel like I’m built more like a
boy than a girl. If I cut my hair the right style and wore men’s clothing,
nobody would ever guess I wasn’t a guy.

I’ll just
have to remove that image from his mind and dress in a way that he doesn’t
forget I’m all female. There has to be something in the closet. I didn’t take
all my clothes when I packed.

After wrapping
a towel around my damp hair, I pull another one around my body and step into
the bedroom.  Gabe is standing just at the door, a towel about his hips, his
body wet from his shower. My mouth goes dry. Damn he’s hot and those muscles.
There isn’t an ounce of excess on that body and he’s toned from biceps to the
six pack. Damn! I want that and I want it badly.

“Sorry,”
he says quickly. “Just wanted to grab my clothes.” He snatches up the slacks
and shirt he wore last night and ducks back out of the room, closing the door
behind him and I sink down onto the bed.

Well, he
sure got out of here fast. We’ll never have sex if he runs from the sight of me
in a towel.

It’s
probably better I figured it out now before I became more invested. We’ll just
have fun in New York for a few days and then go back. A girl can’t have too
many friends anyway.

Gabe – 10

Damn!
She’s going to be the death of me. Sleeping with her last night, after my
stupid suggestion, dancing in the skin-tight leotard and now, damp, fresh from
the shower and only wearing a towel.

I’m only
so strong.

I know
she isn’t asking me to fuck her, she hasn’t done anything so blatant, but
that’s all my body wants to do.

Maybe I
should take another shower, a very, very cold one. But she’ll wonder why I need
a second one in ten minutes. That, I’m not about to explain, especially since I
was trying to do the right thing last night by telling her we weren’t going to
have sex until we knew each other better.

I’m such
a dumb shit. We could be in bed right now, enjoying and getting to know each
other on a much more pleasant level. But, I wanted to do the right thing.

“Respect!”
I can hear my mom’s voice as if she’s standing right next to me. Always respect
the girls. “It doesn’t matter how they dress or act, or even look at you.
Respect. Treat them right and they will do the same to you.”

“Yes,
Mother,” I answer to the empty room and get dressed while wondering if my hard
on will ever go away.

After
refilling my coffee and grabbing the morning paper, I head into the living room
to wait for Ellen.

She comes
out a few minutes later, hair dry, a little bit of makeup, not that she needs
any, and wearing a full and colorful skirt, large blouse and faded jacket. It
looks like something Alexia, one of Baxter’s art teachers, would wear.  Not
that I mind the look on Ellen, I just prefer her in shorter skirts so I can see
those fantastic legs.

“So, what
do you want to do today?”

“Shopping?”
That is what we talked about.

“Well,
that won’t take long.”

“Breakfast
would be nice.” I’m starving this morning. Then again, it is about nine. I
normally would have eaten two hours ago.

“So,
breakfast, shopping, and then what?” She grabs her bag by the front door

I just
shrug. “This is your town. You tell me.”

“Let’s
figure it out while we eat. I know the perfect place.”

I’m so
glad she picked a real diner and not a trendy café that believes a bagel is a
filling breakfast. I’ve got nothing against bagels, but I’m an eggs and bacon
kind of guy. That’s not my breakfast during the week, which usually consists of
cold cereal, but on the weekend or on vacation, I like my eggs and meat.

“You’ve
been here before, right?” She asks before taking a bit of her omelet.

“The
city? A few times.”

“So, what
did you do?”

I have to
think back. It’s been awhile. “Dad’s taken me to Yankee Stadium and Madison
Square Garden.”

“That’s
not surprising.” She rolls her eyes.

“What’s
that supposed to mean?” Am I supposed to be insulted?

“You’re a
jock. I’d be shocked if you hadn’t been there.”

So, I’m
not exactly insulted.

“Where
else?”

“Empire
State Building, Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Times Square, Coney Island.
Places like that.”

She’s put
her fork down and is just staring at me.

“What?”

“Metropolitan
Museum of Art?”

“No.”

“Metropolitan
Opera?”

“Nope.”

“Carnegie
Hall, Lincoln Center, New York City Ballet?”

“None of
those.”

She’s
just shaking her head, as if I’m suddenly a major disappointment.

“Yet, you
work at Baxter Academy of
Arts
.”

When she
puts it that way, I kind of get it.

“We’re
going to get you some culture before they fire your ass.”

“Hey, I
saw a musical last night,” I quickly remind her.

Ellen
just shakes her head and looks to heaven as if seeking guidance before taking a
drink of her coffee.

Ellen

The two
of us could not be any more different if we tried. We have nothing, absolutely
nothing in common.

At least
he likes to read. 

If he
hates the places I named, this could turn out to be his worst visit to New
York. Sure, he hit all the touristy stuff, but not of the arts. It’s the main reason
I picked this city, over all the others, when I had to vacate Nevada. Plus, you
can’t really get much further away without leaving the country.

Gabe pays
for our breakfast and stands. “So, where’s the best place to shop?”

I grin up
at him. Maybe it doesn’t matter that we have nothing in common. It’ll be fun
discovering each other’s passions. “Soho.” There are more great places to shop
in this city than I could possible count, but I like Soho the best.

He holds
out his hand. I take it, and we head off for the subway. He’s still limping but
at least not as bad as yesterday, but what will all the walking, riding the
subway and taking the stairs in and out of it do to him.

“Are you
always
in pain?”

He blinks
over at me. “Not really, this is a fluke. I slipped on a wet floor Tuesday and
twisted it a bit. It just needs time.”

“Like
sitting with the leg up and iced time?” This is a bad idea. He needs to rest
his leg, not walking all over the place.

He
shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal. If I rested each time there was a little
problem with my knee, I’d never get off of the couch.”

I stop in
the middle of the sidewalk. “Let’s take a taxi.”

Her turns
and sighs. “That isn’t necessary.”

“I’m
going to be dragging your ass all over the place today,” I warn him. “By the
time the day is over, you’re going to wish we took one.”

He just
shakes his head. “Fine.”

“You do
have a very fine ass, Gabe Kent.”

He
glances up at looks at me in the mirror and grins. “Funny, I’ve had similar
thoughts about you.”

My face
heats and I have to look away from his gaze. Not only is his ass fine, but
every inch of him. And, no matter what I pick out for him to try on, he looks
hot as hell. I don’t think he could look bad if he tried. 

We could
have finished shopping after the first hour, but I can’t resist going into one
shop after another, picking out things for him to try on and model for me just
so I can watch. I haven’t told him that, of course.

“You
know, I have enough clothes to stay here a month. I don’t need any more.” He
calls from the dressing room.

“You can
never have too many clothes.”

I hear
him snort. “A girl can’t have too many clothes. A guy just needs some jeans,
slacks and a few shirts.”

“Oh, you
are so wrong,” I say as he comes back out carrying the items he had tried on.
“Besides, when is the last time you bought anything new?”

He
shrugs. “Last spring. Before I started at Baxter.”

“Then
it’s way past time you had new things.”

He just
laughs and holds up a pair of jeans and shirt. “But this is it. No more
shopping. Let’s do something else.”

He’s
right. “Let’s take these back and dump them at the apartment and then head out
for our next adventure.”

I’m fine
with what I’m wearing but I make Gabe change into something new. He’s got to
want to get out of the clothes he’s been wearing for two days. I wander around
the living room, stopping at the long windows and stare out at the river.

“What
should we do next?” I mutter to myself. Reaching for my bag, I pull out my
phone to check hours and what performances are available for tonight and
accidentally grab the new burner phone. For a moment, while we were shopping,
I’d forgotten the real reason I needed to come to New York. To get lost for a
bit. But I couldn’t be happier that I’m getting lost with Gabe.

I toss
the burner back into the bag and grab my iPhone and find an events calendar.

“Hey, did
you know the Yankees and the Mets are playing each other?” I call down the
hall.

Gabe
saunters out wearing faded jeans that hug his hips perfectly and they’re a
little loose, the way I like them. I hate when guys wear pants that are too
tight. His white casual shirt is open at the collar and my mouth goes dry.

“Those
tickets will be impossible to get. Even if they have some, I can’t imagine the
cost.”

“I’ll get
them. You endured shopping so it’s only fair I take you to a game.”

He laughs
and pulls me into his arms. “I thought this was about me getting some culture.”

I thread
my fingers through his hair, still amazed at the softness. “I can culturize you
tomorrow.”

“I don’t
need a game. Let’s do the next thing on your list.”

“List?”

“I’m
assuming you made one.”

Actually
I didn’t. I was just about the check on what we could do. But, since it’s the
middle of the day, there is only a few options. “Okay then, we’re off to the
Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

Gabe
gives me a quick kiss, then drops his arms and steps back. “Lead on.” He
gestures to the door.

Damn, I
could have stayed in his arms by the windows a bit longer. Okay, a lot longer.
Hell, I’d be fine not leaving the apartment and instead spend time getting to
know Gabe better and figure out where this is going. I’ve never felt like this
about a guy before. At least never this quickly. It’s like something deep
inside of me recognizes that he’s special. I’m afraid to let go, or even blink,
afraid it might disappear.

I’ve
never been a romantic. Frankly, I don’t believe in romantic love, but I may be
changing my mind. There are forces at work here that I can’t begin to
comprehend.