Authors: Laura Day
The next time she saw Roman was on Friday. She nearly ran into his arms, she missed him so much. She managed to restrain herself, and met up with him at the drink table.
"Missed you," she told him.
He nodded, "I've been plagued by you as well."
"Plagued? Nice word," she frowned playfully.
"It fits," he said, turning to look at her. "There doesn't seem to be a cure for you. We still on for Sunday?"
"That is set in stone," she told him.
He looked over her character's wardrobe, "You don't wear a bra much."
"My character doesn't like them. Maybe if she could strangle someone with one, it would appeal to her more."
He laughed. "Yeah, I read over the whole script last night with the writers."
"So that's why there are suddenly so many line changes," she grinned at him. "I'm told you are a hell of a line artist."
"Missed my calling. At least Mike thinks so. He wants me to get in touch with a writer friend of his, to help with another script." Roman said thoughtfully.
"Yeah? You considering it?"
"Considering, yes. Decided? No. It's new."
"And you are slow with new," she added.
He smiled. "Probably not as slow as with you. English is my first language. So it’s not completely foreign."
She stepped a little closer. "Am I really that foreign to you? You certainly didn't have any trouble discovering me, and setting me off."
"Is that you asking?" he asked.
She bit her lip, and tried to peel her character off, as if to see. She couldn't find the edge though.
"Probably not," she admitted. "It's the middle of the day. But, Roman? That was me, Monday night? That was all me. Seriously. Sunday? That's going to be the same girl you were riding around with Monday."
He thought about that, really letting it turn in his head. "You're sure? We just left the set."
"Honestly. I figured it out after you left," she told him.
"That would be very nice, because I really liked her -- you. The real you, if that was you," he said, and then made a face. "Kind of like dating a split-personality."
She laughed, "I'm afraid it is a lot like that." Then she studied him.
He picked up on her interrogation. "No, I'm not running yet. I have a lot of respect for what you do. The more I'm around it, the more respect I have."
"Respecting it, and dating it, though?"
"Sunday is set in stone with me, too," he told her.
She smiled, and this time hugged him, not caring who saw. Everyone knew she was out with him anyway. What was a hug? He hesitated a little, and then hugged her back, and his arms felt amazing.
"That's real good," she sighed. "I can bang out the rest of the day no problem now."
Sunday morning Laura
woke early, and showered, and then dressed in jeans, a t-shirt with lingerie underneath. She fully expected to be naked with Roman today, and she wanted to be a pretty package to unwrap. She didn't, however, spend much time on her hair, since no matter what she did, she was going to have helmet hair. She settled for combing it back and putting it into a plait. This was something that was seriously fiction with Julie, her character. Julie always had perfect, teased out, slut hair, no matter how much she rode on the back of a bike that day.
Julie Storm, however, would never wear a plait, and the running shoes, instead of high-heels, were absolutely out of character. Her makeup was light, and she was wearing a bra. A very sexy lingerie bra, but a bra nonetheless, which Julie Storm seemed to have something against.
Satisfied that she was completely out of character, or as much as she could get during a production, she waited. At eight, she couldn't wait any longer and called Roman.
"Can you come early?" she asked.
"I was just on my way to breakfast," he murmured.
"You prefer to eat alone?"
"No. In fact, I would prefer to be with you. I just haven't had a call like this. Usually impatience is hidden at all costs. Isn't this against some female code or something? What's Minion going to say?"
"Well, it is certainly something that Julie Storm would never do. She's much too tough to admit she is seriously into a guy." Laura told him.
There was a short pause, and then he said, "I'll be right there. Don't move, and don't pick up a script."
"Hands in my pockets," she pledged.
He was there in ten minutes. Hearing his bike outside, she rushed out of the door, and skipped down her steps to the curb. Then she threw her arms around him, while he was still on the bike, and kissed him fiercely.
"You made good time," she commented, getting the half-shell helmet on.
"I didn't want to give Minion time to lay into you," he told her.
"I really appreciate that. She can be a real bitch, in a prudish sort of way," she giggled, and then got behind him. "Breakfast?"
"On our way," he said, and the bike left the curb with a roar.
Since she had already eaten, she had a croissant with a bowl of fruit, while he ate a meal that could feed five.
"No comments against my breakfast choices?" he asked, as he finished off his fourth sausage, and third egg, which was also on the last bite of the tall stack of pancakes. He still had the steak to go.
"Nope," she said, tearing a bite off her croissant, "You're going to need all the energy you can get in a few hours."
"Yes," she nodded matter-of-factly. "I plan on doing very naughty things with your body."
"Dirty," she nodded.
"Incredibly erotic acts, which will require the use of my whole body," she assured him.
"Ah," he nodded, "A few hours? We have the whole day."
"We're going to need it," she said, tearing another bite off, and popping it into her mouth, "Does your hotel have room service?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Good, because I don't want to leave the room for dinner," she told him.
He made a small frown with his lips, which she caught, "Not happy with that?"
"Oh, no, that part sounds very good," he said.
"So, what then?"
"I was thinking Magic Mountain."
"Six-Flags? The park?"
"Yeah," he said, glancing up at her as he cut into his steak.
"Yaknow? I have never been there," she told him.
"Nope, not once. No one has ever asked me to go to an amusement park with them. And it really sounds like a lot of fun," she smiled. "Going to cut into my naughty time though. Will you promise to kiss me a lot while we are standing in line?"
"I'll do more than that if you want," he suggested.
She flushed, thinking about just how much he could do. "Kissing will be fine. I'm not sure the world is ready to be exposed to your... finer talents."
"Maybe they should," he pressed.
"Minion would not approve."
"Don't tell her."
"Not possible. She gets everything out of me. It's a gift. She was simply appalled at your handling of me last time."
"And she still let you out of the house today?"
"I ran out," she admitted, and sipped her coffee.
"I saw that," he nodded.
"Besides, there might be children present," she argued.
"I have a soft spot for munchkins, so that's a good point," he nodded.
"But kisses are still good," she reiterated.
"In front of munchkins?
"Well ... um... how much of a soft spot are we talking about?"
"Don't parents kiss?"
"I suppose. I don't know this from experience, but I'm sure there are some who do," he offered.
"Yes," he nodded. "They should. Quite often in fact."
"So, kissing is good then," she smiled, and bounced a little on her seat.
He thought about the logic trail, and then nodded. "Kissing is good. Besides, I would like to enter your house someday, and not have my balls mauled by Minion."
She sipped her coffee, watching him eat, smiling like an idiot, and not caring at all. "I really am becoming seriously into you," she admitted.
He grinned at her. "That's good, because I'm starting to figure out that I'm hooked."
"Even without sex first?" she asked.
He sat back. "I've had plenty of sex. Lots of sex. And plenty of offers for sex. Nothing like you though."
"It's only our second date," she reminded him.
She paused, searching for something to counter that one. How many dates did it take?
Yesterday she tried to imagine him in her house. It was easy. She could see him sitting on the couch, reading a book, his boots off. She saw herself sitting down next to him with a cup of coffee, and snuggling into his shoulder. Then Minion jumping up on the couch to get in on the action. It was clear as a bell tone. It was so easy, and so real, she lay out on the couch, missing him.
She had a great visual imagination, but she never saw any of her other boyfriends in her house like that. Not that there were many since she moved in there at nineteen. Three, in fact, but still, it was frighteningly easy, and now it felt like he should be there with her.
Then she thought about his outlaw status.
What did he do? Drug running? Robbery? Hi-jacking? Extortion? Did he beat people up? An enforcer? Sex trade? Did he manage whores? Were any of these OK with her?
"I don't know, Roman," she said, sounding more serious than she intended. "I'm out of my depth here."
He searched her eyes, and then nodded, returning to his steak. "There are some details to work out here."
Is that all they were? Was living with a man who ran whores, just a detail to work out?
"I... I don't have enough information to comment on that." She posed.
"Your brain is spinning pretty hard. Should we pass on the park, and the hotel, and have a conversation?" he asked.
"The conversation I would need to have, would be better done in your hotel room I think. Where we can talk without whispers, or ... surprises. But no. That isn't for today. I want the park, with you, and I'll keep my head from spinning. I promise," she told him.
He finished the last of his steak, downed his coffee in a gulp, and then fished out a roll of cash from his pocket. Flipping through several hundreds, he peeled off two twenties, and put them on his check, "Let's go then. The screaming awaits."
"The screaming?" she asked, getting up with him, and taking his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
"I'm told that the rides there are quite exhilarating," he answered, nodding.
"Exhilarating? Nice word," she teased.
"Hanging out with writers too much," he mumbled.
"Speaking of which, have you thought about that script Mike asked you to look into?"
They reached his bike, and he handed her a helmet. "I was actually with him all day yesterday."
"Yeah? What did you think?" she asked, feeling a little excited.
"If what we did yesterday together, which he paid me rather well for, is what they want, then it looks good. He really did need help. I really felt like I was giving him that help. So that is all good. Still waiting to hear back from the Prez though."
She had her helmet on, and was about to get behind him, but that stopped her. "Prez?"
He started the bike, but then leaned back in the seat to talk with her. "President of my club. The script would take nearly three months, the writer told me, plus the re-writes during production. So, nearly half-a-year. I have to ask the president of my club, Brent, if it is alright to be gone that long."
"Oh? So, you had to get permission to be up here now?"
"Yes, but that was approved. This is a new thing. New request. I'm not sure he's going to go for it. This project is already a long time absent."
"So... um... you wouldn't really be living up here... I mean, um... after," she said weakly.
He took her hand, and brought her into a kiss, which she desperately prolonged, feeling something closing up inside her, which she wanted very much to stay open.
When he broke their kiss, he said, "That is some of the details, which would have to be worked out, yes. But for you, I'm thinking the commuter train might work just fine."
"Commuter train?" she asked, like it was a totally foreign concept, and it was really, but she clung to the idea recklessly.
"Yeah, as in, traveling back and forth. I don't have regular office hours or nothing. I could get by with commuting, I think."
"I promised that I wouldn't spin," she said, reminding herself. "And I'm not going to. Let's go scream, and talk about this after."
He nodded. "Sounds good."
She got on the back, and they rode for Magic Mountain, and the screaming.