Dance in the Rain

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… It’s learning to dance in the rain.”

-Vivian Greene

 

–

Another morning.

I glared at the sun. How dare it shine so brightly? I covered my head with my blanket and tried to reclaim sleep.

Instead, I laid awake, staring at the dim green light that managed to leak through the sheets. I closed my eyes and saw the whole terrible drama again, playing out before me like a movie. Pain, tears, and blood.

How had it come to that?

I opened my eyes and grabbed my phone. I tapped my music app and scrolled through my albums. I needed something, something to drown out the soundtrack of horrible words that I could still hear, even now, a week after leaving.

My whole bright future was shattered in my ex-fiancé’s final tantrum. I had finally seen, finally understood, who he was. Not a man who loved me, but a man who wanted to own me.

No, that’s not quite true. I hadn’t seen in that moment, I’d seen it later, sitting in the office of the relationship counselor I’d reached out for couple’s therapy. My ex hadn’t shown up, but I’d talked to the counselor anyway.

My mother had warned me, my friends had warned me, and I’d ignored them. I’d been so obsessed with the idea of a great love that I’d blinded myself to reality. Maybe I should blame him, but I blamed myself more.

Oh, people may say it’s not your fault. But when it was me who walked right and let the abuser take control, I couldn’t believe that. I had left him. Yes, I had done that one thing right. But I had let it get much too far, had let it continue much too long. And while I’d left physically, my mind was still stuck somewhere on the way out.

Lady Gaga’s ‘Speechless’ beat out from my phone’s tiny speakers as I nestled into the couch and tried to forget.

“Irena!” My mom called as she knocked on the basement door, her voice just barely piercing through my music.

I groaned and swung my legs over the side of the old basement sofa that I’d been sleeping on for the past week. My bedroom had been taken over when I’d moved out four years ago. I was just lucky my parents had a finished basement that I could use.

I trudged up the stairs, unlocked the door, and opened it.

“Yes, mom.” I tried smiling. I knew my mom was worried about me, and it kind of broke my heart.

“We’re going to the beach today, the one at the lake. You should come.”

“Ok, mom.” I agreed. No part of me wanted to go to the beach, but I would do it for my mom.

I could see her hesitate, as if she wanted to say something else, but in the end she just walked away. I could hear my younger siblings laughing and screaming as they chased each other around the house, getting ready for a fun day at the lake.

I was the oldest by twelve years. I’d moved out when the next oldest was just six, so my three siblings were more like nieces and nephews to me. Listening to their squeals of delight, I tried to remember what it felt like to be so excited by anything.

I shook my head and smiled. A real smile this time. I needed this, to be out with people, to remember that life wasn’t over. This was just a little bump in the road of my life, I told myself.

Feeling a bit better, I pulled a bikini out of one of my suitcases. Anything I couldn’t fit in my two suitcases was left behind in my ex’s house, and I would never go back for any of it. Let him keep the paintings I’d made for him, the gifts he’d bought me, the memories of our love. I didn’t want any of it.

I tied on a long wrap skirt over my bikini bottoms and pulled my light brown hair back in a braid that trailed halfway down my back. I thought about cutting it all off. I’d grown it out because my ex liked it long. Why keep it now?

I grabbed a pair of sunglasses and my hip bag and headed out to join my family. The five of them completely filled one sedan, so I drove their other car. The parking lot was nearly full when we pulled in and I ended up having to park quite far away from my parents and siblings.

I rubbed on some sunscreen before getting out of the car. I didn’t really need it. I didn’t burn, I tanned. But it was a habit to put it on. And then I remembered why, it was because my ex didn’t like when my skin got dark.

I wanted to scream.

Was there nothing that wouldn’t remind me of him? Of how I’d made myself over to meet his desires? I took deep breaths and held back the tears the threatened to fall. This sucked.

Every part of me wanted to turn my car back on and head home, bury myself in my borrowed bed, and try to forget. I couldn’t do that forever, though. I sighed and plastered a smile on my face. Fake it till you make it, right?

I scanned the crowd and spotted my family setting up blankets and chairs. As I walked over to them, I watched the people all around me. Happy people, full of life and laughter and joy. How long until that was me again?

I settled on one of the beach blankets, leaning back and watching my siblings splash into the lake. Next to us a group of young men played beach ball. It was not possible to avoid noticing their strong bare chests and arms. I felt I should have been aroused at the sight, but all I saw was my ex, in love with his own beauty.

I looked away. But, in every direction it seemed, where hot, athletic men. There, two were wrestling in the water as their friends hooted at them. And further away, there were more with a group of young women, all laughing and chatting.

I laid down and closed my eyes, deciding that watching the red insides of my eyelids as the sun beat down through sunglasses and skin would be less painful.

A ball thudded into the sand next to me, spraying me with fine grains of beach dust. Instinctively, I flinched.

“Sorry!” A man called as he ran over to retrieve his ball.

My heart thudded in my chest as he loomed over me. Fear, hot and raw, set my adrenaline running.

The man’s grin faded as he saw my expression. Was he angry at me for not smiling at him? I didn’t want to know.

“It’s Ok.” I said and smiled, trying to make him believe it.

He left with his ball, and I breathed again. Why had I expected him to be angry? Get a grip, Irena.

I didn’t want to be sitting here anymore. I got up and walked down to the water near where my siblings were playing. I folded up my long skirt until it was knee length and waded in.

“Ireny!” My brother called excitably as he saw me. He ran over and grabbed my arm, splashing me with water. My sisters trailed after him, both older than him.

I laughed and took turns running into the water with each of them. It wasn’t long before I was completely soaked. I was glad that my hip bag was waterproof because I was having the most fun I’d had in as long as I could remember, just being silly with my siblings. There was nothing in this to remind me of my ex, thankfully.

After an hour of goofing off we all tromped back to our parents to have some of the snacks that we’d brought along.

“Looks like a storm is coming.” My dad said as he eyed the horizon.

I looked up. Where the sky had been open and blue an hour ago, now there were fluffy white clouds drifting overhead. And, in the direction my dad was looking there was a line of dark gray clouds crowding into view.

My mom got up and started packing up to leave. All around us, people were doing the same. The parking lot was already only half full.

“I’m going to wait a bit,” I said, “maybe it will blow over.”

I didn’t want to let go of this good feeling, this feeling of being alive I’d found here. I wasn’t ready to go back to the basement and be alone with my memories again. Being alone here was better, somehow.

“Alright, jellybean.” My mom said and gave me a hug.

I squeezed her back tightly. “Thanks for making me come,” I told her.

She smiled and waved and then they got in their car and drove away. The wind was blowing hard now, whipping my braid and skirt around me and the beach was nearly empty. The last few holdouts were grimly getting ready to leave too.

Enjoying the feel of the warm wind, and the heat of the day without the glare of sun, I pushed my sunglasses up on my head and walked towards the lake edge. I stood there and stared at the coming storm. There was no chance that it would blow over.

The clouds were angry black and nearly on top of the lake now. Fat drops of rain began to fall, and seconds later the downpour was on me. Water ran down my face in rivulets, along the bridge of my nose, in the crease of my lips, down my arms and off my fingertips into the sand.

I tilted my head back and opened myself to the power of the fierce rain.

A crack of thunder sounded and reverberated in my heart. I yelled as loudly as I could into the storm. My voice was drowned in the pounding of rain on the lake and my tears mixed with the rain drops. I felt I was becoming one with the storm, like it was a manifestation of my sorrow.

And the rain continued.

Finally, I sat down, exhausted by the power of nature and my own emotions. The lake lapped at my feet in small waves, driven by the storm’s wind.

“Incredible, isn’t it?”

Startled, I turned to towards the voice and saw that there was someone sitting next to me. The rain made everything more than a few feet away blurry and hard to see. It was like the entire world was just me, this unexpected man, and the rain.

“I hope you don’t mind that I joined you?” He asked me. His voice was just loud enough to hear above the sounds of the rain. It wasn’t that he was yelling, but it was the pitch, the tone of his voice that seemed to cut through the white noise.

“I’ve never seen rain like this before.” He continued when I didn’t answer.

He was wearing swim trunks and nothing else. His biceps were large with well-defined muscle mass. I couldn’t see his stomach as he sat with his knees pulled up towards himself, but I was sure he had a good set of abs.

His black hair was short and stood up, even under the onslaught of the downpour. His eyes, I saw when he looked at me, were black too. His face was angular and sharp, but his nose had a slight bulge in the middle, as if it had been broken too many times. I glanced at his ears and saw that they were distended and misshapen.

He was a fighter. Professional or amateur? I wondered.

Oddly, I wasn’t afraid. I should have been, out here and isolated. A strange man who was obviously at least occasionally violent, next to me. But I wasn’t.

I felt calm. The man seemed to radiate calm.

“Do you always sit outside in storms?” He asked me.

“No.” I said, finally speaking.

“Ah, it’s just my lucky day, then.” He nodded, looking pleased.

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I just looked at him. It was odd how he could demand my attention as much as the storm. I watched as water dripped over the curves of his bicep muscles, like little rivers making new paths through mountains, I thought.

I wanted to paint him. No, not him, I wanted to paint just his arm, with this water running down it. I would use acrylic to build up the texture of his muscle, I mused. I considered which of my paints I could use to match his beautiful tan skin tone. And then a bit of a lighter shade, with deep purple highlights for the water reflecting the storm.

The arm I was watching flexed, breaking my train of thought. I glanced up and met his black eyes. They sparkled and the corners wrinkled with amusement.

“Sorry,” I blushed. “I was just thinking about painting you, your arm I mean. I mean the rain on your arm is beautiful – like mountains. Not, not like that, like a canyon in a desert. I… Never mind.” I looked away from him and back towards the storm.

“My arm is like a canyon in the desert?” He asked.

I didn’t answer.

“Usually women describe my arms as ‘hot’ or ‘buff’, or sometimes ‘sexy.’ Never heard about mountains and canyons. I like it.”

A flash of lightning lit up the skies, turning the world a lighter shade of purple for a moment. The crash of thunder sounded almost before the glare of the lightning had faded from my eyes.

“That was close.” The man commented. “It might be a good idea to not be so close to the lake, don’t you think?”

I nodded.

The man stood up and reached his hand down to help me up. His hand was large and warm in mine. I looked at it, fascinated by how each knuckle was engorged, a knot in the long bony lines of his fingers. His nails were short and blunt, each one flattened out across a wide fingertip. I could feel the thickness of calluses on his palm.

Unexpectedly, heat shot through my pelvis. I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand.

“And what do my hands remind you of?” He asked.

“They are branches of an oak; each knuckle a knot formed by trauma to the tree.” I said, without thinking.

The man raised his other hand to his face and examined it thoughtfully. “I see a tool in this hand, just a tool.”

“A hand is so much more than that. It’s the link that connects your soul to the world, it’s the extension of your will.”

I gasped and dropped the man’s hand. My cheek burned with the remembered red imprint of my ex’s hand, slamming into my face. An extension of his will to cause me pain, to control me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, not wanting this man in front of me to think that I didn’t like touching his hand.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “Let’s go sit in the grass.”

I nodded and followed this stranger. In the dim light I could see that he had a large tattoo covering his back, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I should probably go, get in my car, and drive home. But I didn’t want to leave the storm, to leave the rain, to leave this calm man.

We sat next to each other in the grass and watched as the lighting struck closer and closer. A bolt drove from the sky into the lake. Would I have still been sitting there if this man hadn’t come to talk to me?

I reached out and touched his hand, lightly. He took my hand in his, gentle. I squeezed and returned the gesture softly.

“Do you always sit outside in storms with strange women?” I asked him.

“No, this is my first storm. And I haven’t met any strange women here, only you.”

“Am I not strange?” I asked, I felt strange, had been feeling strange for weeks now, or maybe longer.

“No, you’re not strange. Just a bit sad, that’s all.” The man replied with a gentle squeeze of my hand.

“How could this be your first storm?” I changed the subject, “you said you’d never seen rain like this before.”

“I’m from Wyoming. We don’t get storms like this, with this much rain all of a sudden. At least not often, anyway. When everyone started leaving, I thought it was a bit of an overreaction. I guess the locals know best, though. Anyway, the rain started so fast, and I was already soaked, so I thought I may as well watch for a while.”

“I should have gone home,” I said.

“I’m glad you stayed,” he said.

I shivered a little. It wasn’t cold, in this warm summer rain, so there was no reason for it.

“Are you cold?” the man asked. He unhooked his hand from mine to open his arm, but he didn’t put it around me. It was an invitation, not an order.

I scooted closer and leaned against him, feeling his warmth spread through my body from where we touched. Gently, he laid his arm around my shoulder, his hand wrapping around my bare upper arm. I reached for his other hand with mine, feeling that I still needed a hand in mine.

We sat quietly for a while.

“Thank you,” I finally spoke.

It felt so nice to be held like this. It felt safe, somehow. And it stirred my sex too, drew my arousal out of its deep slumber. His fingernails brushed the side of my boob where they wrapped around my arm.

His swim trunks were too big and loose to tell if he was aroused or not, but I was sure that the tightening of my nipples was very visible. Yet, he didn’t make any move to touch me more than I invited. If his hands were the extension of his will, then his will was to accept what I offered and ask for nothing more.

I tried to remember my first date with my ex, had he been patient, back then? Or had he pressed me, and I hadn’t noticed. Well, I noticed now. Maybe this was the kind of thing that I would always notice, now…

I sighed unhappily.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The man asked.

I shook my head. Maybe someday I could open up, talk about being in love with someone who hurt me in anger, who blamed me for everything, who called me ugly and weak, but not yet. Maybe someday I could talk about how I stayed when he broke the furniture, how I forgave him when he screamed at me, how I hadn’t wanted to leave even when he struck me.

Someday, maybe, I could talk about how it had taken someone else to tell me I was worth more than that, deserved better. Not my mom, not my friends, but a stranger. It had taken a stranger to make me see.

No, I wasn’t ready to talk about that yet.

We watched as the lightning faded and the storm moved on, the rain slowed to a drizzle and the clouds became lighter and lighter. And then, finally, the sun shone again, drying up the sand and our skin. People started coming back, arriving in droves. And we stayed sitting, quietly.

“What’s your name?” I asked, as reality returned around us. And in the real world, you knew the names of men who held you in their arms and used their body as a tool to offer protection.

“Robert, but everyone calls me Bobby. What’s yours?”

“Irena.”

“I’d like to get to know you, Irena.” Bobby said.

I felt like I already knew him, his soul, and he knew mine. But I understood what he meant. We’d shared a special moment here, in the storm. But Bobby wanted more. He wanted Irena in reality, not Irena in a storm dream.

“I’d like that,” I said. I hadn’t thought I would be ready to date again, already. But this man, Bobby, he was so calm, the calm in the storm. I wanted to feel more of the peace that I’d felt with him in the rain.

I just, didn’t trust myself to make good choices, though. I thought he seemed kind and gentle, but I could also see he was a fighter.

I wanted him to meet my mom. She’d told me the first time she met my ex that he was no good. If she could see that then, then I wanted her to see this man and tell me if he was good or not.

But it was weird to ask a guy to meet your mom on your first date, and this was even before our first date. Really weird. I thought about just trying a date with him – a normal coffee date, and I felt anxiety fill me. No, I didn’t care if it was weird, I needed my mom’s blessing.

I tensed up and Bobby stroked my arm.

“I want you to meet my mom,” I said, feeling stupid. A grown woman who couldn’t make her own choices without mom’s approval. But it was just, that’s where I was now.

“Ok,” Bobby agreed easily.

I couldn’t believe that he’d just accepted it. But that was what he’d been doing since he’d sat down next to me in the storm, just accepting me. No man was this perfect, I worried.

Get a grip, Irena. Just see what happens. You’re not committing to anything.

I took a deep breath.

“You’re ok with meeting my mom?” I asked.

“Sure, moms are important. I don’t know why you were screaming in the storm, Irena, but it’s clear your struggling with something. I not going to object if meeting your mom will help with, whatever it is. I’m just glad you’re willing to give me a chance.” Bobby said.

“I feel like a wild bird being tamed by a song and seed.” I said, my imagination carrying me away again.

“I kind of feel that too, that tension like you want to run.” Bobby agreed.

I laughed, surprising myself. “I was a lot more tense before you sat with me, Bobby.”

“Mmmm.” Bobby said thoughtfully.

I pulled out my phone and called home.

“Mom? Can you come back to the lake? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I felt like a young teenager again, introducing my mom to a guy I wanted to go out with, needing her permission.

Bobby and I sat quietly and waited, watching the buzz of people on the beach.

“Irena?” My mom called out as she walked towards us.

Bobby stood and reached his hand down to help me up, just as he’d done before when we moved from the sand to the grass.

“Mom, I’d like you to meet Bobby,” I said nervously.

“Nice to meet you, Bobby.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.” Bobby replied politely, reaching out to shake my mom’s hand.

I watched, quiet and anxious. My mom glanced at me, then back at Bobby.

“So, Bobby, tell me about yourself.”

“I was born and raised in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I went to vocational school for welding and work freelance on large equipment repair. On the side I compete in mixed martial arts. I’m here in Connecticut for my first pro fight with Bellator, Ma’am.”

My mom frowned slightly, “Why do you fight?”

Bobby tilted his head and considered, “I’m good at it, ma’am. I can be a welder all my life, but I can only be a fighter when I’m young. I don’t want to let the chance pass to see how good I can be.”

“Can you give me a moment with my daughter, Bobby?” My mom asked.

“Yes ma’am.” Bobby nodded and wandered off, within sight but out of hearing range.

“He seems like a nice young man, Irena. But there is no reason to rush back into dating.”

“I know, but I don’t know. I don’t want to never see him again.” I said.

“I want you to be happy, jellybean. Just… Set your boundaries. If he deserves you, he’ll be patient.”

“Ok, Mom. Thanks.” I hugged her tight.

She went over to Bobby and talked with him a little bit more, then waved to me and left. Bobby came back to stand next to me.

“Your mom suggested that I take you over to a fair that’s set up in Montville. I can take you on my bike, or you can drive, or we can go separately?” Bobby suggested.

“Do you mean take me on a motorcycle?” I asked, stomach tingling.

Bobby nodded. “That’s one reason I stuck around for the storm. Once it started raining it was already coming down too hard to ride safely.”

I felt a thrill of excitement. “I’d like to ride, but I’m afraid I’m not dressed for it?”

I had the idea that people should wear boots and a complete leather suit when they rode a motorcycle, to avoid road rash in case of the inevitable accident. But, also, it looked so fun when I watched people speeding along on them, completely underdressed.

“You’ll be fine,” Bobby assured me, looking over my bikini and skirt. “I’ll drive slow and careful and you can wear my jacket and helmet.”

I considered, but I already knew my mind was made up the instant he mentioned a bike. “I want to ride with you,” I said.

I followed Bobby across the parking lot. His bike was a big solid looking one with a slightly raised passenger seat that even had a back rest. I looked for the brand but didn’t see anything obvious.

“What kind is it?” I asked curiously.

“It’s a Honda Gold Wing. I got a good deal on it because the engine case was cracked and the guy who owned it didn’t want to pay to get it fixed. It was easy enough for me to TIG weld it, though.”

Bobby opened up the box behind the passenger seat and pulled out a jacket and helmet and handed them to me. He also pulled out a shirt and jeans that he put on over his swim trunks. Lastly, he slipped on a pair of sneakers with no socks.

I put on the jacket, which was large on me, and zipped it up. It smelled of cologne and exhaust and I inhaled deeply.

Bobby walked over and fastened his helmet on me, checking the fit. My pelvis pulsed with arousal and excitement and nervousness. I felt like a child all over again, with Bobby taking such care to ensure my safety. It was nice to feel taken care of.

“I get on first, then you can climb on, ok?” Bobby said as he closed up the top box.

I nodded and waited until he got on the bike and settled in.

“Ok, just hop on behind me now.” He held his hand out.

I took his hand and stepped up onto the foot support and swung my leg over. Then I settled in behind him. I felt really secure, actually. I didn’t have to hold on to him because the back rest made me feel confident that I wouldn’t fall off. But I wanted to hold him. I reached forward and wrapped my arms around Bobby’s chest.

“Is it alright if I hold you?” I asked, belatedly.

“Yes, I like it.” Bobby confirmed, and then he bounced his pecs in my hands. I squeezed them reflexively.

“Oh, sorry!” I loosened my grip.

“You can squeeze if you want,” Bobby assured me, bouncing his pecs again.

Then, he started the motorcycle and headed out of the parking lot. My clit twitched eagerly as Bobby picked up speed on the road. We weren’t going fast, just keeping pace with traffic, but it felt much faster than in a car.

I didn’t feel the wind in my hair or on my arms or torso, as that was all covered. But my skirt was bunched up to my knees and the wind whipped at my lower legs and my hands.

Under the heavy leather jacket, my nipples hardened. I was glad that Bobby had sat with me in the rain, had easily accepted my bizarre request for my mother’s approval, and was now taking me on my first ever motorcycle ride. And I had almost just stayed in bed today.

The ride to the fair was about twenty minutes. By the end of it, I was feeling more aroused then I thought possible. It was just a motorcycle, right? Or was it Bobby’s pecs that were doing it?

Bobby parked his bike and we got off, which was a little harder than getting on had been, but I made it work. I handed over his helmet and jacket and he put them back in the top box and locked it. He took my hand and we walked into the fair.

It was late and the families were leaving as the teenagers and young couples started showing up. I felt a bit underdressed in my bikini top and long skirt, but there a couple other women just as scantily clad, so I figured I was fine.

“What rides do you like?” Bobby asked me as he walked over to the ticket booth.

“I like them all, but my favorite is Round Up.” I told him.

Bobby grinned as he bought tickets. I considered offering to pay, but he didn’t leave an opening. I figured I’d pay for something later. Not that I had any money. My ex had been supporting me financially. He had wanted a housewife and I’d been happy to play that role.

When I’d decided to leave, I’d applied for a credit card and got one with a really high interest rate and a $300 limit. It was enough to buy a bus ticket home, but I had no way to pay that debt now.

It was time to start looking for a way to support myself, I thought. I’d go job hunting tomorrow. With a fine arts degree, the options were pretty much low paying retail work or low paying restaurant work. I was sure I could find something that would pay enough to at least move out of my parents’ house, though. The decision felt liberating, and I wondered why I hadn’t made it before.

Bobby and I rode all the rides and I forgot everything that had been bothering me. We careened around the Round Up. We spun our teacup like maniacs. We smooshed into each other on the Caterpillar. We screamed on the Drop Tower. We raised our arms and whooped on the Swing Boat. We laughed on the Star Flyer.

When we finally ran out of tickets, we checked out the games.

“Oh, let’s do the water pistols!” I nudged Bobby.

I did that now, casually touching him and he casually touched me. We were making total relationship progress.

I read the sign and unzipped my hip bag, ready to pay for this one thing. I looked up, my credit card in my hand, to see that Bobby was already paying. He flashed a satisfied smirk at me. I laughed.

I beat him in the Water Chase, but I think he may have let me win. I got a cute tiny stuffed fish for a prize. It came with a clip, and I hooked it to my hip bag.

“Beat the high score and win a giant prize for the lady!” The guy manning the punching machine called as we walked by.

Bobby stopped and grinned at me, “do you want a giant stuffed animal?” He asked.

I didn’t need a stuffed toy. But I thought maybe Bobby needed to win me one. I smiled at him, “only if you win.”

Bobby handed over $5 for one hit. He stepped up close, turned his hips and threw a wide swinging punch that came at the bag parallel to the ground. The target snapped up and the machine sounded an alarm.

‘999’ read the score.

“Did you break it?” I asked.

Bobby laughed, “no way. These things are all about the angle, speed, and location of the hit, not the power of the punch. I didn’t hit it very hard.”

“Congratulations!” The man said, grinning as he handed Bobby a giant stuffed dog, which Bobby handed over to me.

“How will someone else win now that you maxed the score?” I asked.

“I’ll just reset it,” the fair worker winked as he did something in the back of the machine. The score read ‘000.’ The guy came around front and threw a punch a lot like Bobby’s at the target. The score lit up ‘775.’ He nodded, “that’s good to get some action, but probably no one will beat that tonight.”

Bobby made a show of pulling out another $5.

“Oh no, you got your prize already,” he laughed, and we laughed too.

It was awkward to carry the giant stuffed animal around, but I felt pretty proud of it, which was silly because I hadn’t earned it. We played a few more games, and then headed back to Bobby’s bike.

I didn’t want the day to end, and I could tell Bobby didn’t either. But the fair was closing down, and we had to leave. Bobby handed me the jacket and helmet and we stuffed the dog into the top box. It didn’t quite fit, but Bobby had some bungee cords that he wrapped around it.

“That looks ridiculous,” I laughed.

The giant stuffed dog head and arms were peeking out the back of his motorcycle.

“I like it.” Bobby said. “I may have to get one of my own and make it a permanent fixture.”

My stomach fluttered as I looked at his angular face, at his black eyes framed by long black eyelashes, his short black hair spiking up. His smiling eyes and bright laugh had caught me.

“And what does my face make you think of?” Bobby asked, a reminder of our time in the rain.

“You have the face like a jagged stone, with your long nose and sharp cheekbones. Your eyes are cutting and focused, like obsidian that can be chipped into the sharpest of blades.” I told him.

“Hmm… Arms like canyons, hands like trees, and a face of stone, is that right?”

I nodded, “I want to paint you in a landscape.”

I took his elbow and bent his arm up and his wrist back so that his bicep and hand framed his face. I turned his chin to give him a slight profile. Yes, like that. A canyon under a rocky cliff with a tall, tall tree spreading its branches above.

Heat spread through my chest as I considered him. He was beautiful. And he thought his body was just a tool, just deserving such simple and easy compliments as ‘hot’ or ‘sexy.’ No, his body was a temple to nature, and ode to masculinity.

I leaned into the frame in which I’d placed his face and kissed the side of his mouth, gently. I held my lips to his for a beat, then retreated. Bobby didn’t move, frozen in the position I’d placed him in.

“I guess we better go,” I said, breaking the spell.

Bobby dropped his arm and gazed at me. I could feel the heat from his eyes, feel his need to pull me close and kiss me. But he didn’t. He held himself until the urge passed, and then he strapped his helmet to my head.

I pulled the jacket on, and Bobby zipped it up, his hand pressing lightly into my boobs as he zipped past my chest. My nipples tightened in response. Bobby hopped on to his bike and I climbed on behind him. Again, I slid my hands around to his pecs, and again he bounced them for me.

Riding in the dark was more thrilling than the earlier ride had been. The warm, humid air swirled around us. I wished my face was free to feel the wind, but at the same time I was thankful for the protection of the helmet and the jacket.

The beach was closed when we got there, the gate across the parking lot was locked.

“Looks like you’re not getting your car tonight.” Bobby said. “I can take you to your place… Or mine.”

My clit tingled.

“Take me to your place.” I said before I could second guess myself.

Bobby turned his motorcycle around in the road and we were flying through the night again. Fifteen minutes later Bobby parked in front of a hotel. He un-bungeed the giant dog and I put his jacket and helmet in the box. Then, we headed inside.

The hotel room was neat and organized. I took off my hip bag and dropped it on the TV stand. Bobby sat on the bed, and I sat next to him and huddled under his arm, much the same way we’d sat on the beach earlier.

“I have to get to sleep by 2am.” Bobby said. “Want to watch TV for an hour?”

“Sure.”

We watched a show quietly on Hulu.

“Thank you for today,” I said. “I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

“I enjoyed it too. I want to spend more time with you.”

“When is your fight?” Being in his hotel room really brought home the reality to me that this was a temporary fling. When he had his fight, he’d go home, and our time would be up.

“It’s in three days, on August 13^th. But I can stay in Connecticut longer. After this, it will be at least six months before my next fight. All my welding work is freelance, and I’ll have the money from the fight, so there’s no reason for me to leave right away.” Bobby explained.

But would there be a reason for him to stay? I thought but didn’t say.

“Don’t you need to focus on your fight for these three days? That seems very soon.” I frowned.

Bobby shrugged. “I have to train for a couple hours a day, and I have to not eat very much, and that’s all I have to do these couple days. It would be nice to have something to think about other than this weekend being either the beginning or the end of my fighting career.”

“Would it be OK if, one of these days, I could paint you?” I asked, tentatively.

“Sure.”

I wanted to stroke my hands over his perfect body. Why didn’t I? There was no reason not to, no reason at all.

“What makes you angry?” I asked, instead of giving in to the urge to touch.

“Um… I suppose I get angry when someone I trust lies to me. Or when someone I care about is hurt.” Bobby said, his muscles tightening with some remembered pain.

“What do you do, when your angry?” I frowned. Did he hit things, the way my ex had?

“I usually go to the gym and work out. That gives my body something to do while my brain figures things out. Keeps me from acting without thinking first.” Bobby said thoughtfully, I could feel his muscles relax. “Are you angry?” Bobby asked me.

“No, not me.” I said.

“You seemed angry, in the storm, before we talked.”

I thought about it. Had I been angry? “I guess I was angry at myself.” I admitted.

And it made me angry that I had been mad at myself and not my ex. He was the one who deserved it, not me. I should be angry at him, but somehow, I couldn’t quite manage it.

“I just got out of a bad relationship,” I said. “I’m still working through some feelings about it.”

“I see,” Bobby said, quietly.

And I thought he probably did see. He saw how we might be the right people for each other, but we’d met at the wrong time. Rebound relationships never work, they say. You need to spend some time alone between relationships, not just jump from guy to guy.

It all sounded very reasonable, until you met someone at the wrong time, at the wrong moment when every conventional wisdom says you should let that opportunity pass.

“I don’t want to let this opportunity pass.” I said. “I think we could have something real here, do you?”

“Yes, I do.” Bobby agreed. “I can give you time if you need it. But I want to try for something real, with you.”

“Time… How much time is enough? How long do you wait, for the storm to pass? Or should we just dance in the rain?”

“I always liked the quote.” Bobby smiled. “I’ll dance, if you want to.”

I turned my body towards his and brushed my hand over his chest lightly before resting it on a pec. I reached up and kissed the corner or his mouth, the same place I’d kissed before.

“I want to dance.” I said.

Bobby wrapped his other arm around me. He kissed me, full on the lips. His mouth felt soft and delicious against mine. My boobs pressed into his chest as we kissed. Our mouths opened slightly, just a little. We shared our breath, but not our tongues, not yet.

Bobby ran his hands over my back and shoulders and then slid one up to support my head and the other slid down to press my lower back, his calloused palm was rough against my bare skin. I folded my knees under my butt to align myself with Bobby’s embrace. My hand was pressed between us, still clutching at his chest. My other hand wrapped around his back, pulling him towards me.

I moved my mouth away from his lips and kissed his nose, his forehead, the tip of his ear, then down to the lobe, and then his neck. I lingered on his neck, kissing it gently and licking, enjoying how he stretched his chin upwards for me, giving me access. I pressed my body into him, needing to be close, as close as possible.

I ran my hands down to the hem of his shirt and pulled at it, picking my way under the edge. I pressed my palms flat into the skin of his abdomen, the feel of firm muscles under supple skin sent shivers through me. I pushed my palms upward, running my hands over his chest, grazing past his nipples, then out the neck of his t-shirt. I pushed the shirt over his head and down so that his upper arms were pulled back.

Bobby let his arms be constricted, but we both knew he was stronger than his shirt. It was bondage of belief, not in truth. But he let me bind him, chest open and exposed. I leaned back, hating the absence of his warmth but needing to see.

I got up and turned the TV off and the lights on. I stared at his chest, the bold outline of his abs, his well-defined chest muscles, his pert brown nipples, the sandy hue of his skin… I looked up into Bobby’s black eyes, where I was reflected clearly.

“What do you see?” Bobby asked.

“I see the dunes of the Sahara, rolling waves of sand shifting over mountains.”

I placed my hand on his chest, one finger tapping his sternum lightly. I let it fall down, follow the crease under his pec, then wound my way around an ab and back to the middle.

“The lone wanderer walks the dry lands, lost. She is thirsty, alone, and afraid. Will she find an oasis at the end of her journey?”

I ran my finger down the middle of his abs and hooked it into the top of Bobby’s jeans. I popped open the button and pulled down his zipper. Then I looked back into his obsidian eyes.

“How far should we go, tonight?” I asked, feeling unsure.

“As far as you want,” Bobby said.

Beneath my hand I felt his cock straining at his swim trunks, yearning for more. But Bobby didn’t let it have control; he would deny it pleasure if I asked. My ex would have called me a tease and berated me for getting this far if I wasn’t sure I wanted to go all the way.

I leaned my cheek against Bobby’s chest, feeling his rhythmic breathing.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Yeah, I have a couple in the top pocket of my suitcase. Also, I’m clean, no STD’s. Have to be, to be a fighter – blood sport you know.”

“I’m clean too.” I said. “And I have an IUD.”

My ex had wanted me to use an IUD until we were married. He said it was the best kind of birth control, no hormones, and no physical barriers. I’d just accepted it, as I had everything he’d wanted. But I wasn’t thinking about him now.

I ran my hand over Bobby’s side. He still kept his arms pulled back where I’d put them with his shirt. He didn’t even try to touch me, to push past the artificial boundary I’d set.

I took a deep breath. The storm in my head calmed.

I pulled back again and moved my hands down to the waistband of Bobby’s pants and trunks. I dug my fingers under the fabric and pulled. Bobby lifted his hips off the bed, letting the fabric pull away easily down his legs.

His penis, when freed of its fabric sheath, popped up rigidly. As always, on a man without any excess body fat and a shaved pelvis, his dick looked longer and wider than were accounted for just by its strict measurements. Like his nipples, Bobby’s cock was a bit darker than his skin tone. He was circumcised and his penis bulged with veins under the taut skin.

I slowly pulled Bobby’s pants all the way off his feet. When I reached the end of the bed, I backed all the way off and stood, dropping his clothes to the ground. I swept my gaze across him, from feet to head and back down again. He was completely hairless other than his head. A fighter thing I guessed, but that didn’t necessarily explain his lack of pubic hair.

Bobby had a fully wrapped tattoo on his upper left thigh, and I knew he had a large one on his back, but I didn’t see any others. The tattoo on Bobby’s thigh was a black and white rendition of M.C. Escher’s Sky and Water I, the pattern of fish becoming birds continued in a loop around his thigh.

I untied my wrap skirt and let it fall, then climbed on the bed and knelt between his legs, examining his tattoo. I ran my hand over the detailed fish at the bottom of the tattoo, then up the simplified shapes that slowly transitioned into a bird. The line of perfect birds wrapped around nearly at the top of his leg, so close that his balls laid over one of the birds on his inner thigh.

I ran my hand to that overlap and passed my fingers over Bobby’s balls. The skin here was soft and smooth. I wrapped my hand around his testicles and felt one of the spongy balls inside.

Bobby groaned and his cock twitched as I played with his balls. It looked so lovely and felt divine. I slid my hand up to Bobby’s penis and stroked it lightly. Part of me wanted to go ahead and suck it, part of me was worried that I might not like the smell if I did that right now, neither of us had showered recently. I didn’t want to ruin this with a negative reaction.

I rubbed a thumb through the pre-cum dripping out of Bobby’s cock and used it to lube him so that I could stroke a little harder. But I didn’t want to just give him a hand job. I wanted to feel him inside me, filling me up. And I wanted to feel his hands on me.

I climbed up and straddled Bobby, the smooth fabric of my bikini bottom rubbing against his erection. I could feel him through the stretchy swimsuit, pressing into my slit. I tilted my hips in and out against him slowly as I pushed his shirt all the way down his arms, releasing him from my binding.

Bobby wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close into a kiss. This time, our tongues met and danced between our mouths. Bobby moved a hand up to my shoulder and pulled the strap of my bikini top down. First one side, then the other, then he pulled the cups down and released my breasts.

Heat coursed through me as I felt his bare skin against my naked boobs. Bobby took one in each of his hands and squeezed gently. He pushed me away from him and bent his mouth to suck a nipple. I angled my chest towards him to make it easier.

Bobby reached behind my back and tugged at one of the string ends of my top. The bow came apart and the bikini bra fell away. Bobby tossed the scrap of fabric to the floor.

Between us there was now only one item of clothing, my bikini bottoms. The only thing between me and his rigid cock.

Bobby moved his head up and kissed my ear and neck while he played with my tits, squeezing, kneading, tweaking my nipples. I craved him inside me.

I swung a leg off and stood up on the side of the bed. I hooked my thumbs into my bikini and pushed the suit down, slowly. My small boobs barely dangled as I bent over, my long braid sliding over a shoulder.

When I stood, I let Bobby look at me. I had small, A-cup breasts, but the size matched my thin body. My pussy had a bristle of short hair. My ex had demanded it be kept smooth for him, but I’d let it grow this past week. I worried that the short dark hair might be a turn off for Bobby, but he said nothing about it.

“Do you want to use a condom?” I asked. He only had my word for my state of health, after all.

I guessed I only had his too, but it seemed like his word was backed by the more substantial fact that his career depended on it. And while I had only his word for his career, I could see the evidence of it in his body. What it came down to was that I trusted him.

The thought frightened me. Who was I to make decisions based on trust? I’d trusted my ex too and look how that had turned out.

Bobby studied my face, and he must have seen something of my fear written there.

“We don’t have to have sex, Irena. I want to spend time with you either way.”

“I want to, though.” I said. “It’s OK if you don’t.”

Maybe he was disgusted by my pussy hair that I’d let grow. Embarrassed, I put a hand over my crotch, and then I covered my breasts as well, self-conscious.

Bobby frowned. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed so that he was sitting in front of me.

I flinched, was he angry that I’d covered myself? My ex would have been. I dropped my arms and closed my eyes. I didn’t want Bobby to be mad, I liked him a lot.

Bobby was silent for a long time. Finally, I opened my eyes. He was looking at me, but it wasn’t anger in his eyes, it was concern. It hit me in my heart. Yes, this was the normal reaction of a man who cared about a woman, concern. Not anger.

Why had I not noticed that my ex was always angry? Why had I just accepted it?

A tear leaked out of one eye. Bobby reached up a finger and gently wiped it away.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” He asked, gentle and kind.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. Miserable, I shook my head. This had been a bad idea. There was no way that Bobby would want someone as broken as me. Someone who couldn’t even have sex without crying.

I wanted to run away, but I had nowhere to run too. I didn’t have my car, I barely even had clothes. More than anything, I didn’t want to break down right here into an ugly cry.

I sniffled and more tears leaked out. I was a faucet of tears, I thought absurdly.

“Come here, beautiful.” Bobby said as he stood and pulled me towards him and put his arms around me.

I sobbed and my body jerked with it. Bobby rubbed his hands over my back gently. I could feel his penis against me, but it was soft now. I’d made him soft.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Shhh… There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Bobby told me.

How could he say that? When I’d ruined everything. He should be angry at me, shouldn’t he? He should tell me I was weak and stupid and a tease, shouldn’t he?

No, no, no! I shoved those thoughts away. That was my ex talking, and he was wrong. I gathered my shreds of dignity and self-worth, the scraps I’d held on to and was trying to reassemble into something functional. Calmer now, I stopped crying.

“Come, lay with me.” Bobby said. “Let’s get a good night’s sleep.”

I nodded into his chest. “Thank you.”

Bobby kissed the top of my head gently. He opened the covers and I slid inside. Bobby laid next to me and opened his arm. I cuddled onto his shoulder, pressing my body close to his.

Outside, a rumble of thunder boomed, and the rain began to pelt down, tattooing a beat against the window. The storm raged outside, but inside I was calm, soaking up Bobby’s heat and strength.

~~~~~~

The morning wasn’t as painful as the last one had been. I didn’t hate the sun for shining. I didn’t feel the need to drown out my thoughts with music. And it was probably because I was still laying on Bobby’s chest.

As I woke it suddenly occurred to me that my mom would be worried that I hadn’t come home last night. She might assume I’d stayed with Bobby, but she might fear that we’d got in an accident, or that he was a serial killer after all.

Slowly, I tried to extricate myself from Bobby without waking him. It didn’t work. He groaned nearly as soon as I moved and squeezed my body closer to him.

“Morning, Irena.” He said, sounding groggy but happy too.

“Good morning, Bobby.” I said as I settled back into him.

This was a better reason to not want to get up. Much, much better than the reason I’d had yesterday.

But my mom…

“I have to let my mom know I’m OK.” I said.

Bobby released me and I slid out of bed and retrieved my bag. Turning on my phone I saw three missed calls from my mom. I checked the time, 9:00 am. She would be awake. I called her.

“Mom, I’m Ok, sorry for not checking my phone. Bobby drove me to the fair and by the time we went back for the car the park was closed. I spent the night with him. Everything is OK.”

My chest ached when I heard the concern in my mom’s voice. I shouldn’t have worried her like that.

By the time I was done talking to her, Bobby was already in the shower. Should I join him? I wondered. No, I shook my head. If he wanted company, he would have waited, right?

I sat on the bed and pulled the blankets up around me, covering myself. Curiously, I pulled out my phone and googled ‘MMA fighter Bobby.’

Dozens of articles popped up. There were a lot of fighters named Bobby. I didn’t even know his last name. I’d nearly slept with him and knew almost nothing about him.

What was the name he’d mentioned, about his fight? I couldn’t remember. I googled “MMA fight Connecticut.”

Bellator 264, that was the one. I pressed the link to look at the event page and scrolled through the list of prelim fights. No Bobby in the three fights listed. But maybe they didn’t list them all?

I clicked on the ‘fighters’ page, then ‘middleweight.’ I was guessing. I had very little idea about MMA weight classes, but Bobby didn’t look like a heavyweight or a lightweight to me.

I heard the shower stop and glanced up to see Bobby come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. In the bright light of day streaming through the window he was breathtaking in his beauty. He was a man in prime physical condition.

I sucked in a breath and momentarily lost my grip on my phone. It slid down the comforter and to the floor. Bobby grinned as he reached down and handed it back to me.

“Looking up my record?” He asked.

“Huh?” I flushed. “I am, er, was trying. But I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Good. Search for Robert Good.” Bobby told me.

“Good? That’s some last name.” I typed it into the search on the Bellator site.

There was no image on the page that listed welterweight Robert Good’s record and stats. I went back to the fighters’ page and scrolled to the welterweights and then sifted through the photos there.

And there he was, Bobby’s face on a gray background, all his angles and his black eyes staring back at me.

 

Robert Good

 

 

Welterweight

 

 

5-0-1

 

I looked up at Bobby, who was drying off and dressing. He let me google him without any sign of being insulted that I felt the need to check on him.

“I have to be at the gym at noon to meet my coach. That gives us nearly three hours. I can take you to your car. If you want, you can pick up some clothes and then stay with me for a few days. Or we can make plans to meet later. You can come watch me train…”

“Ok.” I said, interrupting the flow of options.

Bobby looked at me, “Ok?”

“Yeah, let me shower, we’ll go get my car, you can take me home and meet the rest of my family, and then I’ll go watch you train.”

Bobby blinked, “ok.”

No questions about why a twenty-four-year-old girl was living at home. Bobby just accepted the new information without judgement. As little as I knew about him, I realized, he knew even less about me.

Now wasn’t the time though, we had a lot to do this morning, and I needed a shower first. I swung off the covers and went to go take care of that first step to getting ready.

I glanced in the bathroom mirror as I passed it and caught Bobby staring at my butt. I stopped where he could still see and reached back to take out my braid. My long toffee colored hair just brushed the top of my ass when it was loose. I grinned as I saw Bobby’s eyes widen appreciatively. Maybe I wouldn’t cut my hair off after all.

In the shower, I used the last of the hotel shampoo to lather up my hair, washing out the rain and fair smells of the day before. I lathered up with Bobby’s bar of soap and rubbed the lather all over my body. It was glorious to take a long hot shower. With six people living in my parents’ house, long hot showers were rare.

By the time I got out, Bobby was already dressed.

“I ordered room service for breakfast. I don’t know what you like, so I got a variety.” He told me.

I wrapped my hair in a towel and flipped it back over my head.

“Thank you,” I smiled.

“Your welcome, beautiful.”

I flushed at the compliment. My ex had never called me beautiful. After a day with Bobby, I couldn’t help but wonder why I’d ever been with my ex, had left my family and friends to move to another state with him, had given up my independence to be housebound at his request, had agreed to marry him. Why had I done that for a man who never even called me beautiful?

I bent down and dried my legs to hide the expression on my face. I didn’t want to chill this joyful moment with memories that it seemed Bobby could read in my eyes. When I looked up again, I smiled at him.

“You never asked me to tell you about myself.” I said.

“Neither did you, your mom did.” Bobby reminded me.

I blushed, remembering how I’d made him meet my mom. “Thank you for meeting her.”

“Hey, if my mom were here, I’d make you meet her too,” Bobby smiled.

“Well in the absence of your mom to ask about me, I’ll just tell you. I grew up in Montville, Connecticut. I got a bachelor’s in Fine Arts. I’ve been unemployed since college. And last week I broke up with my fiancé and moved back home from Chicago.” I frowned, “your story is better.”

“I assume the ex-fiancé is why you were screaming in the rain?”

I nodded.

“And he’s why the next guy to show interest has to meet your mom before taking you on a date?” Bobby asked.

I nodded, “she never liked my ex. I should have listened.”

“I’m glad you have your mom to look out for you, then. And I’m glad she approved of me.”

“Me too.” I said quietly.

“And he’s why you flinch when you think I should be upset?” Bobby asked, equally quiet.

I nodded and looked away, feeling tense and nervous.

“Room service!” A knock accompanied the words through the door.

Bobby went and took the platter of food from the hotel worker. He set it on the bed.

“How much did you order?” I laughed, glad to have something else to focus on, to think and talk about.

Bobby shrugged, “I didn’t know what you like.”

He started unwrapping and uncovering items. There was oatmeal and pancakes and eggs and toast and yogurt and bacon and sausage and juice and coffee.

“Well, what do you like?” I asked.

Bobby shrugged, “I can’t eat a lot right now, so you just take whatever you want. Believe me, I’ll enjoy watching you eat. Vicarious eating, that’s where it’s at. Better than sex.”

“Better than sex?” I raised an eyebrow and bit into a piece of bacon.

“Mmm… Definitely,” Bobby watched me chew intensely.

Oddly, it did seem like an erotic kind of stare. No one had ever watched me eat like that. My ex had always watched what I ate with disapproval. He would have hated to see me eating something as fatty and greasy as bacon.

I smiled and took another, larger bite.

“I bet you could eat a whole strip of bacon at once,” Bobby suggested.

I swallowed and grabbed a whole strip. I stuffed it in my mouth, slowly, enjoying watching Bobby’s expression as I put the bacon in my mouth. I moaned a little as the last bit went in and I started to chew.

Bobby got up and came over closer to me. He waited until I finished chewing and swallowed, then he kissed me, tasting the bacon grease that lingered in my mouth. He moaned.

“Oh man, that tastes good. This is my new favorite way to eat bacon. You get all the calories, and I get the amazing taste from your mouth.”

I laughed. “Well, I can’t just eat bacon. I’ll have the yogurt or the oatmeal, you choose.”

Bobby shook his head, “nope, this is your breakfast, you choose. I’m just going to enjoy kissing you afterward.”

My nipples tingled and my pussy pulsed with heat. I really, really, liked him. I picked the yogurt, figuring it would taste better second hand.

Judging by Bobby’s moans, it tasted fine.

I didn’t have a hairbrush, so I used my fingers to work out the big knots and re-braided my hair, then I put back on my bikini and skirt. Bobby drove us back to the lake, where I picked up my car. He followed me to my parents’ house.

It was 10:30am when we got there. We had an hour, then we had to go to the local gym where Bobby was working out while he was in Connecticut.

“Hi mom!” I hugged her as she opened the door. “Dad, this is Bobby.”

My dad was actually my stepdad, but I’d known him since I was seven, and so he was pretty much my dad. He looked over Bobby critically.

“I understand you’re an MMA fighter, and a welder?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” Bobby replied, returning to the same respectful manner he’d used with my mom the day before.

My dad stared at Bobby. Bobby stared back, calmly. As I looked at the two men, eyeing each other, it suddenly occurred to me that my ex had never met my dad one-on-one. He’d always seemed to avoid having a conversation with him.

I frowned. That was odd, wasn’t it.

“I’m going to change and pack. I’m going to stay with Bobby for a couple days,” I said. My ex would have followed me and watched to make sure I was packing the right things. Bobby didn’t, he stayed to talk to my dad.

It was like every interaction was an illustration in how healthy relationships were supposed to work. And all the things I’d just accepted from my ex… All his controlling, all his aggression, and I’d just accepted it because he didn’t physically hit me. Well, not until that last time. And by then, by then I was so close to accepting that too. I shook my head as I packed.

Was I doing it again, letting a man take over my choices? I sat on my bed and thought about it. No, no that wasn’t what was happening here. At every opportunity, Bobby gave me control. He respected my boundaries. He didn’t push, he didn’t even choose breakfast when I’d asked him to.

Bobby was a great guy, all signs pointed to this being true. If I let him go out of fear, it would be a worse loss than risking another broken heart. This was what it meant to dance in the rain. To not wait, to take the joyful moment when it came, even with the sorrows that might surround it.

I finished my packing a small bag, changed into jeans and a tank top, and went out to the living room where my whole family was sitting around and talking with Bobby. They were all laughing and smiling and happy. My dad looked at me, and nodded, his approval had been won.

I grinned and went and sat next to Bobby on the couch. He put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed. It felt good.

“Bobby says his fight probably won’t be on the TV, but he gave us tickets to the live show, isn’t that nice?” My mom said. “We’ll get a babysitter for the kids.”

“Aw Moommmm!” Whined my eldest sister. “I wanna see Bobby beat someone up.”

Bobby laughed.

“Child, hush. Kids aren’t allowed.” My mom said.

“Actually…” Bobby started saying but paused as my mom narrowed her eyes, “your mom’s right, no kids allowed.” He finished, saving himself.

Before I knew it, it was time to leave. I rode with Bobby on his bike and left the car with my mom. We got to his gym with ten minutes to spare.

Bobby showed me where I could sit and watch him, then he disappeared into a locker room. A few minutes later, an older guy sat down next to me.

“Bobby brought you?” He asked.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“I’m his coach, Tad. It’s nice to meet you.” He reached out his hand.

“I’m Irena,” I said, shaking his hand.

“So, how do you know Bobby?”

“I met him yesterday,” I admitted.

“Really? And he asked you come watch him train?”

“Yes?” I said.

“Bobby is my first fighter to go pro, I’m really invested in this fight. If he wins, I could get a lot more business” Tad said.

“Ok.” I said, wondering why he was telling me this.

“So, try not to distract him, ok?”

“Um, ok.” I said, not sure what that meant, specifically.

Bobby reappeared at that moment. He was wearing tight shorts and nothing else. He strolled over, his shoulders back, arms relaxed at his sides. He rolled his feet as he walked, not just stepping with flat feet, but rolling each foot forward.

Bobby nodded at the man sitting next to me, “Coach, I see you’ve already met Irena.”

Tad nodded, “Yes, nice girl.”

He and Bobby went off to the treadmills. Tad fiddled with the settings on one of the treadmills and then Bobby ran. He was lovely to watch, and I supposed he didn’t mind if I stared. After all, that was more or less why I was here.

I had brought a sketch pad with me, and I got it out now. I spent the next two hours sketching Bobby doing his workout. Running, weightlifting, sparring, wrestling.

“That’s really nice,” a voice next to me said.

I jumped in surprise.

I looked up to see another muscular guy, wearing only shorts, his muscled chest glistening with sweat. “Thank you,” I blushed.

He grinned, “you keep drawing just that one guy though. Don’t the rest of us get any attention?”

“Um…”

“Is this guy bothering you, honey?” Bobby interrupted.

“No.” I shook my head, not wanting to cause trouble.

“You got to see these drawings, man.” The new guy said, waving Bobby over to take a look.

I angled my sketch book so that Bobby could see my last set of drawings, from him wrestling. I had drawn him without shorts, but always angled to hide his penis.

“Where’s my shorts?” Bobby asked, amused.

“On you.” I said, deliberately misinterpreting his question.

“What’d you do to get all these nice drawings? How can I get some?” The other guy asked.

“Um… I…”

“I’m dating her, so all her attention is mine.” Bobby said. “I mean, unless you want to draw someone else,” Bobby added, solicitously.

“Err… No.” I said.

“Bobby, get back over here! We’re not done yet!” Tad yelled. “And you!” he pointed at the other guy, “you leave that girl alone!”

Both Bobby and the other guy looked sheepish at being called out. Bobby kissed the top of my head and went back to his training. The other guy was already gone.

After another fifteen minutes, Bobby went back to the locker rooms to shower and change. Without the visual inspiration, I started thinking about the drawing I’d envisioned the night before. Bobby’s face as a cliff with his bicep for a canyon, and his lower arm as a tree growing over the scene. I sketched it out as I waited, referring to my earlier sketches I’d made to check the exact angle of his features.

I had the concept fairly well sketched out when I became aware of someone sitting next to me quietly.

“Oh hi,” I said

“That’s a pretty impressive drawing, how you got Bobby’s face in that rock and his body in the landscape.” Tad said.

“Thank you. It’s just a sketch though. I really want to paint him. He’s just so, so… well-formed.”

The coach laughed. “Well-formed. Sure, that’s one way to say it. I can see why he likes you. He’s never brought a girl to watch him train before.” Tad mused.

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“As far as I can recall, he’s never driven a girl around on his bike either.”

“That can’t be true,” I protested.

“Strange, but definitely true.” Tad nodded at Bobby, who was walking towards us now.

“Alright, what do you want to do with the rest of our day?” Bobby asked me.

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Stay in your room, relax, dehydrate, and don’t ride your bike.” Tad said.

“Yeah, I’ll do that tomorrow, but I’m feeling fine today, Coach. And I’ve never been out of Wyoming, I want to see a bit of the area.” Bobby said.

“You saw enough yesterday to find a girl. And on that note, no sex.” Tad said, looking aggrieved.

“Coach, you know that’s a myth about sex making a fighter weak.” Bobby laughed.

“I don’t care. There’s no need to do anything risky. Stay the course, focus, and don’t do anything that might get you hurt.”

“You know, if I lived by those rules, I’d still be in Wyoming, welding.” Bobby observed.

“Boys!” Tad huffed in disgust and left us.

Bobby laughed, “come on, Irena. I want to explore a little, what do you think?”

“I don’t know, shouldn’t you listen to your coach?” I asked. I didn’t want to get Bobby in trouble.

“He’s just being an old grump, don’t worry about him.”

“If you’re sure it’s alright,” I said, hesitant to break any rules.

Bobby grinned, “Let’s go. We just have to make one stop first.”

After Bobby bought me a motorcycle helmet and my own leather jacket, we picked a direction and rode. He had absolutely refused to consider letting me buy my own gear. He also wouldn’t let me look at any of the prices. If I had any cash, I would have slipped a bill into his pocket, but all I had was a credit card.

I remembered my promise to look for a job today guiltily. Oh well. The same crap jobs would still be there tomorrow, or next week.

Bobby looked really handsome in his jeans and leather jacket and helmet. It was hard to decide if he looked better in just his shorts, or in this bad boy look.

Sadly, now that Bobby was wearing his leather jacket, I couldn’t feel his chest muscles anymore. Instead of holding on to him as I had before, I relaxed in the seat and just enjoyed the view.

After about two hours of riding, Bobby pulled off the road next to a creek and a wooded area.

“Want to walk around a bit?” He asked.

We took off our helmets and jackets and placed them on the bike. We were in the middle of nowhere and he’d pulled his bike far enough off the road that it wouldn’t be seen in the trees even if someone drove by.

I followed Bobby down to the creek. He sat on a log and took off his shoes and socks, preparing to wade in. I smiled and decided to join him. I started rolling up my jeans when I looked and saw that Bobby had just taken his all the way off, and his shirt too. And then, there went his boxers.

Completely naked, he whooped and ran into the creek. At its deepest, the water came up to his chest, below his armpits. I gaped at him for a moment, then shrugged and took off my clothes too. The breeze tickled at my skin and my nipples hardened.

I did not run into the creek, but slowly walked in, letting my body acclimate to the cool water. Bobby watched with appreciation as my slow entry meant he got to look at my naked body longer. When I finally made it all the way in, I walked over to Bobby and splashed him, feeling silly about skinny dipping.

He laughed and splashed me back. I turned my back on the spray of water, laughing and shivering. Bobby’s arms circled me from behind and he kissed my neck. I tilted my head to give him access and sank back into him.

Bobby’s penis poked into my back, the base of it splitting my ass cheeks. I rubbed my butt up and down against him. Bobby turned me around and kissed me on the lips. He brought his hands down to my hips and pulled me towards him. His hard cock rubbed against my clit.

I wanted to feel him inside me.

“Will you, can you… I want you in me.” I said finally, not being able to decide whether to say I wanted sex, or a fuck, or to make love.

Bobby didn’t hesitate. He lifted my hips until my pussy was on the same level as his dick. Then, he held me in place with one hand and used his other to guide his penis into my vagina. I sighed as he pressed himself into me. It felt so good, so amazing to have him inside me in this cool water with the warm sun shining down on us.

I rocked my hips into him, rubbing my clit on his pelvis as I rode his cock.

“Ohh… Bobby,” I moaned.

“Irena, honey,” he said. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.”

Bobby rocked his hips to match my rhythm. I wrapped my legs around his ass, and, with the buoyancy of the water, it was easy to stay in place. Bobby ran his hands up to my breasts and began rubbing my nipples. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, my hands clasped around Bobby’s neck.

By leaning backwards, I was able to press my clit even more firmly into Bobby’s groin. Combined with his manipulation of my nipples, the pleasure mounted. But more than my own orgasm, I wanted Bobby to cum. I wanted to know that I had pleased him.

I squeezed my vagina in time with our thrusts.

“Ah, I can’t. Oh, Irena, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” Bobby said thickly.

“Good,” I smiled and kept doing it.

I felt Bobby’s cock pulse and twitch inside me. His body tensed with his orgasm, and I kept rocking. Just a little more and I cold cum too… Now that he had orgasmed, it was OK for me to get off too. I didn’t examine that thought too closely as I closed my eyes and rocked my clit into Bobby.

I shuddered as I climaxed. My vagina pulsed around Bobby’s softening cock, milking out the last of his cum.

“Thank you,” I said, grateful to have gotten to cum on a cock. Usually, my ex came, and I masturbated later when he was sleeping. Quietly, with my fingers, because the sound of a vibrator would wake him. And it made him angry when I masturbated.

“Thank you, Irena.” Bobby said. “Did you cum?”

“Yes,” I smiled happily.

“Do you think you could cum again?” Bobby asked.

“Huh?” I asked, surprised by the question.

“I want to eat you out,” Bobby explained, looking at me intently.

“Uh.” I said blankly.

Bobby narrowed his eyes, “Has anyone ever licked your clit before?”

I shook my head.

“Your ex was an ass.” Bobby said flatly. “For your first time, it should be nice though, you should be comfortable. We can do that in the hotel bed, tonight.” He paused, “if you want, of course.”

I licked my lips nervously. “What if I stink down there?” I asked.

“You can shower first if you want, but I won’t mind, either way. I like the smell of pussy.”

My face flushed. I nodded, “ok, we can try it. But I’ll give you a blow job too.” I said.

“It’s not a trade,” Bobby said, “I want to suck your clit. I want to stick my tongue in your vagina. I want to taste you. I don’t need any prize for doing it.”

“Ohhh.” I said, feeling aroused again as he described what he wanted to do.

I untangled myself from Bobby and stood. I leaned my head against his shoulder. Bobby reached down and took my hand in his.

“Come on, let’s explore this creek a bit, then we’ll go get food before going back to the hotel.”

My stomach growled.

“I should have fed you sooner,” Bobby frowned.

“I’m ok.” I said. “I don’t need to eat.”

Bobby squeezed my hand. “I can’t eat much right now, but you have no reason to cut weight.”

We walked through the creek for an hour, then sat on some rocks on the bank and let the sun dry us. Bobby used his phone to find a restaurant nearby, resolutely refusing my assertion that I didn’t need to eat.

“You barely had breakfast and no lunch; you need food. Besides,” Bobby grinned, “I could use another taste of something good.”

I gave in, when he put it like that, how could I argue?

After I ate a burger at a truck stop, and Bobby licked the tastes from my mouth, we headed back to the hotel. There wasn’t room in the bike’s top box for both my and Bobby’s helmets and jackets, so we just stored the helmets and took our jackets up to the room.

Once the door closed, Bobby undressed down to his boxers.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “it’s more comfortable.”

“No.” I shook my head. Then I took off my jeans and bra. It was more comfortable in just my tank top and panties.

Bobby sat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. I cuddled up next to him. This was comfortable too.

“Want to watch a movie? It’s still pretty early.”

“Sure.”

“What kind of movies do you like?”

I shrugged. “Anything is fine.”

“Well, let’s see what the options are.”

Bobby began sifting through the movie options slowly, but he didn’t comment on any of them. I would have agreed to watch whatever he was interested in, but he made no indication of his preferences. Maybe, he was waiting for me to pick one?

“How about that one?” I finally said when he landed on an action comedy.

“I kind of wanted to watch a horror movie,” Bobby commented neutrally.

“Ok,” I agreed easily.

“No wait, I’m in the mood for a drama, a real tearjerker.”

“Alright.” I said, wondering about his sudden change in mood.

Bobby handed me the remote. “I don’t want you to just agree to what I want. I want to know what you want to watch. I want to know what you like, Irena. Please, pick something you like. Share a movie you love with me.”

I looked down, embarrassed. I took the remote.

There was a movie that he’d scrolled past that I loved and had hoped he’d pick. But I hadn’t said anything. I had to remember that Bobby didn’t want everything his way all the time.

I found the movie and selected it. The opening song started playing.

Well, I would walk 500 miles

And I would walk 500 more

Just to be the man who walked 1,000 miles

To fall down at your door.

“I love this movie,” Bobby smiled at me as ‘Benny and Joon’ started to play.

Bobby laughed at all the best parts and by the end I really believed that he did like the movie as much as I did.

“The first time I watched this movie, I tried making grilled cheese with an iron.” Bobby said as the credits rolled.

“No, you didn’t!” I gasped.

“Oh yes, and my mom was so mad when she ironed melted cheese onto her dress.” He laughed at the memory.

“Oh no!”

“My mom banned the movie from our house when I started copying the bread roll dance at the dinner table.”

I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. “I have to see that! Do you still remember how to do it?”

Bobby looked affronted, “of course I remember.”

He rolled of the bed and grabbed his shoes. Then he started tapping them around just like Johnny Depp had done with bread on forks. It was perfect.

Bobby threw the shoes aside and jumped onto the bed. He straddled me and kissed me as I giggled. Like a switch, my amusement turned to arousal. I kissed him back enthusiastically.

Bobby started kissing down my body, lower and lower. I gasped when he pulled off my panties, spread my legs, and bent his face to my groin.

“I haven’t showered!” I protested.

Bobby took a deep breath, “smells good to me…” He said huskily, and then he lapped his tongue up my slit and across my clitoris.

I jerked in surprise at the intensity of the feeling. “Oh, oh dear God!” I said.

Bobby licked wildly at me, as if he really enjoyed how I tasted.

“Mmm… You taste so good, and your skin is so soft down here,” Bobby told me, taking a short break before starting again.

It was like he was eating me, really. He licked and nibbled and moved his mouth everywhere from my labia to my vagina, to my clit and all in between.

“Oh, it’s too much!” I cried. I could feel an orgasm building like none I’d ever felt before.

I wriggled against Bobby’s face, not sure if I wanted him to stop or to never stop. Bobby used his hands to press my thighs open and keep me still. He stopped exploring as much and focused on my clit, flicking it with this tongue.

I shuddered as I orgasmed, and then I felt liquid pulse out of me. I couldn’t stop it. I pushed at Bobby’s head; I didn’t want to pee on him!

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened, it just came out and I couldn’t stop it.”

Bobby looked confused, “Do you mean your cum?”

“What?”

“You squirted cum. It was fucking awesome.” Bobby wiped some liquid off his cheek and licked it off his hand. He groaned. “I love that taste. Let me lick you clean, please.” He asked.

“I came?” I asked, still stuck on this point. “But I’ve never had liquid come out when I masturbate.” I said.

“Mmmm, when women have a big orgasm, sometimes they squirt. Oh, please let me lick it. I love squirt.” Bobby pleaded.

“Ok?” I said.

Bobby looked more aroused than he had any other time I’d seen him. He dived back into my pussy and began licking it all again. After my orgasm, everything felt a hundred times more intense down there.

I wasn’t sure I could take the intensity of the feeling, but Bobby had asked me, and I didn’t want to disappoint him after he’d made me have the best orgasm ever. I bit my cheek and tried not to wriggle. To my surprise, it started to feel really good again. And Bobby was soon licking my clit, feverishly. Oh, was I going to cum again? I never had more than one orgasm at a time.

“Oh my god!” I cried in disbelief as a second orgasm rocked me.

My clit pulsed and another shot of liquid squirted out. I fell back into the bed exhausted, letting Bobby continue to lick me. He tried for a third orgasm, but my body couldn’t perform again. I could hardly believe I had cum twice.

Bobby moved up and laid down next to me. He held me in his arms and pulled the blankets over us. I had wanted to give him a blow job, no matter what he said about it not being a trade, but I was too exhausted to move.

~~~~~

When I woke the next morning, I stayed still, not wanting to wake up Bobby. He was holding me, just like the previous morning. It felt safe and nice, and I wanted it to last forever. My head rose and fell with Bobby’s breathing. The sun warmed us through the window. I closed my eyes and tried to not think, to just enjoy the feeling of closeness and warmth and relaxation.

I nearly fell back to sleep when Bobby stirred beneath me, trying to gently extricate his arm from under my head. I opened my eyes and lifted my head, releasing him.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Bobby smiled at me as he grabbed his phone. “It’s late, honey. We just barely have time for breakfast before I have to go train. Do you want to come today?”

“Do you want me to go?” I asked. If he wanted me to go, I would. It had become very important to me that Bobby was happy. I wanted to make him happy.

“I want you to do what you want to do,” Bobby shook his head wryly, grinning at me.

I wasn’t used to thinking about what I wanted. I thought about it now, mostly because I knew it would make Bobby happy if I tried.

“I think I want to stay here,” I said finally. I wanted to work on my art, and it would be easier to do that without people around asking questions.

“Then stay here,” Bobby kissed me on the forehead. “Order whatever you want for breakfast, I’m going to shower.”

“Ok.”

My breakfast arrived while Bobby was drying off. It was impossible to not admire his muscular body. I thought about how he’d eaten me the night before, and my cheeks flamed. My clit twitched. I wanted his mouth on it again, but first I had to pay him back for doing that, whether he wanted it or not.

I walked over to Bobby and sank to my knees in front of him, pulling away the towel that he’d wrapped around his waist. His cock was limp, hanging down his thigh, but that wasn’t a problem. In fact, it was already stirring to life.

I sucked his thickening penis into my mouth. I held his butt with one hand and his balls with the other. I ran my tongue around the shaft of his cock as I sucked him in. Even semi-soft, his penis was so long that it tickled my uvula.

I pulled back a little, then forward, working his penis until I could feel he was erect. I took a deep breath and then breathed out as I pushed my mouth over Bobby’s cock. The tip slid into my throat, passing my uvula without gagging. I started swallowing, working his penis with my throat muscles.

“Ohhhh… Honey. Ah, Irena, that feels so good!”

I grinned around Bobby’s penis. I knew I was good at blow jobs. It had taken a while to learn how to deep throat, but it was something I’d worked hard on to please my ex-fiancé. But I was not thinking about him now, I told myself firmly. This was for Bobby.

“Oh, slow down honey, I want to enjoy this a while!” Bobby said urgently.

I stopped moving, stopped swallowing, stopped playing with his balls. Bobby deserved for this to last. When I felt him relax, I started moving again. His penis felt so good in my mouth. This was much better than the French toast I’d ordered.

“Irena… Irena, oh honey. I’m so close…”

I regretted not asking him first if he wanted me to swallow or if he wanted to cum on me. It was too late to ask now. I’d have to be sure to check before the next blow job.

But, knowing Bobby, he’d probably ask what I wanted. What did I want? I imagined his cum spurting down my throat. I might not even taste it that way. I could pull back and let him come in my mouth? But what if he didn’t taste good? I didn’t want to make an unconscious expression of disgust and turn him off.

I imagined pulling out all the way and letting him cum on my face, or my breasts. That thought sent a pulse of heat through my groin. That’s what I wanted. But would Bobby think it was too degrading? Would he think I was weak and pitiful if I enjoyed that?

“I’m coming,” Bobby gasped.

I had a second to choose. Bobby pulled away from me, taking his dick out of my mouth. But wasn’t I going to be the one who chose? Feeling a strange combination of relief at not having to decide and disappointment that Bobby had chosen for me, I let his penis pop out of my mouth.

I closed my eyes, anticipating the warm spurt of hot semen on my face. My pussy clenched in aroused anticipation. But it didn’t come. I opened my eyes to see that Bobby had caught his cum in his hand, to protect me from the spurt.

“I wanted that on my face.” I said, then froze. Had I really just said that out loud? I flinched, expecting irritation or anger at my unintended rebuke.

Bobby took my chin in his clean hand and knelt down in front of me. He looked me in the eyes, calm as ever.

“If you want me to cum on your face, then I will. Next time.”

I shivered at the promise.

“Thank you.” I said.

Bobby kissed me, a firm passionate kiss.

“Thank you, Irena. You are a wonderful cocksucker.”

I smiled, feeling proud. Bobby stood and reached down to help me to my feet. Then he washed the cum off his hand and cleaned what remained off his penis.

“What are we having for breakfast?” He asked.

“French toast.”

“Mmmm… I can’t wait to taste that on your lips.”

When Bobby left to go train, I took a shower. One of the best things about hotels, I thought as I washed, was that the hot water never ran out. I had brought a razor from home, and I considered shaving my pussy hair. I wondered what Bobby would prefer.

He’d want me to do what I want, wouldn’t he? I wondered what I preferred.

I felt at the short hairs on my pelvis. I thought they felt nice. A little prickly which made the feeling of rubbing my hand over myself more intense. I thought of Bobby and his passion for my pussy the night before. I wanted to keep my hair like this, I decided. This was Bobby’s pussy, not my ex’s bald preference. I would find a way to keep it just this length, I was sure there were razors that could do it.

The whole room was hot and humid by the time I got out of the shower. I laid on the bed naked and enjoyed drying slowly. I couldn’t stop thinking about how Bobby’s tongue had felt on my clit, in my vagina.

I pushed two fingers into the top of my slit, seeking out my clitoris. I rubbed back and forth over it, urgently. I arched my back and grabbed a nipple, pinching it.

I didn’t have to be quiet or still, I reminded myself. I was a free woman now, and if I wanted to writhe and moan as I masturbated, I could. I imagined Bobby’s head between my legs as I massaged around my clit in little circles.

“Bobby, please!” I cried as I came. And a little spurt of liquid shot out. That had never happened when I masturbated before. What had Bobby done to me, to my body, that this had started happening to me?

I remembered how excited it had made him, when that bit of liquid had come out of me. Well, if it made him that happy, it couldn’t be a bad thing, right?

I washed my hands then picked up my phone and googled “squirting”. A bunch of articles on female ejaculation appeared. How had I never known this was a thing before? I scrolled over to the pictures.

Oh wow. Those women had a lot more come out of them than I had. Now I wondered if Bobby was disappointed that there was so little, when just ten minutes ago I’d been worried about there being so much. I sighed and closed my phone.

I had to stop obsessing over what Bobby wanted, I told myself firmly.

I put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, no bra or panties, and got out my sketch book. I didn’t have a canvas, so I hadn’t brought my acrylics. Instead, I pulled out my watercolors. It wouldn’t be the same as the vision I’d had in my head, but it was all I could do right now.

I had to get a job so that I could buy art supplies, and my own apartment, and a car, and… But not today.

I put a towel over the bed and set up my art supplies. I put a plastic cup of water between my crossed legs to keep it from spilling and set to painting my ‘Bobby’ landscape.

By the time I had it mostly finished, my legs and back ached. Sitting in the same position for so long was painful. I carefully picked up my water cup and rinsed it out in the bathroom sink.

I went over to the window and looked out. It was raining again, lightly. Pale gray clouds hung low in the sky. The parking lot was shiny, slick, and wet and dark. Contrasting, the grass was bright green, made brighter by the rain. I am a princess in a castle, surrounded by a black moat, I mused.

The door rattled and I turned towards the noise. Bobby walked in and grinned at me.

“Hey, honey.”

I skipped over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing myself into his rain damp jacket. “Hi!”

Bobby held me, then swung me around him. I laughed and he put me down.

“Did you have fun?” Bobby asked me.

“Mhm. I took a nice shower, then I painted.”

“Can I see?”

I gestured to the bed where my sketch book was open, my new painting drying.

“I don’t know if it’s done yet.” I said.

Bobby took off his jacket, then walked over and sat down so he could see my work right side up. He studied it quietly. I watched the expression on his face, trying to guess if he liked it or not.

“It’s incredible,” Bobby said, finally. “You’re really talented.”

I glowed at his praise. “Thank you. I wanted to do it with acrylics, but I don’t have a canvas. I’ll have to do that later. The acrylics would give the texture and boldness that would really suit you. The watercolors are too timid.” I shrugged.

Bobby smiled at me. “I can’t wait to see it in acrylic.”

I didn’t know when that would happen. I wasn’t likely to be able to afford a canvas anytime soon. I changed the subject.

“So, what does your coach want you to do today?” I asked Bobby, remembering that he’d promised to stay in today.

“I usually watch my opponent’s fights the day before a fight.”

“That sounds interesting. I’d like to learn more about MMA.”

Bobby smiled, “awesome, talking through the fights may help me see something new.”

Bobby grabbed a tablet and connected it with a long wire to the hotel TV. Then he logged into a file share site and opened up a video.

“The guy in the black shorts is who I’m fighting tomorrow. His name is Gregor ‘Talon’ Nicholson.”

“Talon?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s a fighter nick name. He’s a grappler and he’s supposed to have incredible grip strength. We’ll see.” Bobby smirked. “I am great at getting out of holds.”

“Do you have a nickname?” I asked.

“Not really, not yet. I’d like to be ‘Fish,’ though.”

“Fish?”

“Yeah, because I’m slippery. You can’t hold me, you can’t hit me, I’m slippery!” Bobby laughed.

“So, why not just call yourself that then?”

“Well, I could… But I want to prove it against this so-called ‘Talon’ before introducing it. I mean, it’d be really embarrassing if I called myself ‘fish’ and was submitted in my first pro-fight.”

“Is that likely?”

Bobby shook his head, “nah, I don’t think so… But, best not to be too cocky.”

We watched several hours of ‘Talon’ Nicholson grappling in the ring, with a little punching thrown in. Bobby narrated the techniques to me as we watched, but honestly not much stuck. It was like learning a new language.

Mostly, I was left with the impression that it was all a lot more complicated than I’d thought fighting was. I mean, hit the other guy, and try not to let him hit you, right? No, apparently not.

~~~~~

Later in the evening, Bobby and I took an Uber to his weigh-in. There were a lot of people there, and a lot of fighters. I looked around and saw the ‘Talon.’ He didn’t look well.

“The ‘Talon’ looks sick.” I commented.

“He cut a lot of weight,” Tad said as he joined us. “He’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Bobby was called up to weigh-in and I watched him stride over.

“Bobby doesn’t look sick like that.” I said to Tad.

“Bobby doesn’t cut as much weight. Also, he seems to have an easier time of it than most.” Tad shrugged.

After the weigh in, the three of us, Bobby, Tad, and I went to eat.

“Man, I’m starving!” Bobby commented as he sucked down a bottle of water.

“You were really close on that weigh in,” Tad commented.

“But I made it,” Bobby grinned. “Now, feed me coach.”

By the time we got back to the hotel it was really late and I was ready to sleep. I snuggled in with Bobby and he held me on his shoulder, our legs intertwined. I could feel his penis harden on my thigh.

The soft erection stirred me to action. Sex was the only thing I was bringing to this relationship, as far as I could tell, so I was determined to at least do that right. But also, Tad had said sex would make Bobby weak. But then Bobby had said that wasn’t true.

I decided to let Bobby choose.

“Do you want me to ride you while you relax?” I asked.

Bobby’s cock twitched at the suggestion.

“Mmm, that sounds good, honey.” He said sleepily.

Feeling useful made my pussy wet as I anticipated having sex with Bobby. I reached up a hand and lightly massaged Bobby’s cock and balls until he was fully erect and a bit of pre-cum squeezed out the head of his penis. I rubbed it around the tip for a little extra lubrication, not that it was needed with as aroused as I was.

I straddled Bobby under the blankets and eased his cock into me. It felt so good to have his warmth pressed against me, inside me. I rubbed my clit against Bobby’s pelvis as I used my hips to thrust. I laid against Bobby’s chest so that he could stay warm under the covers as I humped him. My small breasts rubbed into his firm chest.

“Oh honey,” Bobby groaned.

He ran his hands down to my ass and helped me pump, pushing me rhythmically against himself. He strength added wonderful pressure to each thrust. I thought that maybe I should be squeezing his cock with my vagina to help him cum, but I selfishly wanted to cum too. And it felt so good, grinding my pelvis into his. I hoped he didn’t mind.

I kissed the base of his neck. It was warm and soft. I licked it, savoring the salty taste of him. I could feel the pressure building in my clit. I tilted my head up, and Bobby tilted his down so I could kiss him. He opened his lips and I licked between them. He pushed his tongue into mouth, and I opened wider.

There, there I tensed as the orgasm swept through me, from my clit to my now uncontrollably pulsing vagina, to my hardened nipples, to my mouth.

“Ooooohhh.” I moaned into Bobby’s kiss.

Bobby thrust his hips up and pushed into me, filling me deeper. My vagina tingled around his cock as he thrust, in and out, harder, and faster than before. Sensitive from my orgasm, the feeling was amazing. Why had I never felt this amazing feeling before?

Oh, I remembered, it was because I always made sure my ex came first. Why had I been doing it wrong all that time?

“Bobby, oh! This is amazing.” I managed to gasp as he pounded me from below.

Bobby sucked my ear into his mouth, and the added sensation sent me over the edge. Another orgasm?

This time, Bobby tensed too, and I felt his cock jerk inside my sensitive vagina. Wetness, both his and mine, pooled out of our union. I collapsed against him, and he held me close.

~~~~~

I woke up the next morning with Bobby’s cock still inside me, still laying on top of him. He was soft, but his penis didn’t retract like my ex’s used to, so he’d stayed in me. The feeling of his soft penis inside me was odd, but also really nice.

I wanted to have sex again. I didn’t want to wake Bobby, though. He had a big day, and I had no idea how much sleep he needed. I resolved to just stay still and not risk waking him.

The urge to grind my clit into him, to pinch my nipple, to kiss him into wakeful action was intense. But I resisted. My pussy got wetter, and wetter and my clit actually started to pulse, just from the intensity of my arousal. But I stayed still.

When Bobby’s penis started to harden in me, I thought for a second that he had woken up. But his breathing didn’t change. It was just his dick reacting to my increased wetness. I wondered if he was dreaming of sex.

I decided that I could, at least, squeeze his dick with my vaginal muscles. I began milking him, inside me, careful not to move the rest of my body. He got harder, and harder, until he was fully erect. I squeezed desperately.

My clit pulsed, needing to be pressed, to be ground, to cum. But I knew that would definitely wake Bobby up. It was exquisite torture to have him hard in me, but not be able to move.

I was so focused on my need that I didn’t realize it when Bobby’s breathing shifted.

“Are you horny, honey?” Bobby whispered softly.

Startled, I jerked. The movement set my clit on fire with need.

“Yes,” I admitted guiltily.

“I’d really love to pound you from behind, holding on to your glorious hair while I fuck you.” Bobby said groggily, his eyes closed.

“Ok,” I agreed, feeling a surge of wetness in my vagina.

Bobby opened his eyes and looked at me, “are you just agreeing because you think it will make me happy?”

“Bobby,” I frowned, “I need you to fuck me right now and stop talking.”

I was shocked by my boldness. I had never spoken like that before. Had never even admitted out loud before that I enjoyed sex. Maybe I hadn’t enjoyed it before, though. Maybe it was Bobby who made me need it, from him.

Bobby smiled at me, “alright, honey.”

He rolled me over onto the bed next to him. Then, he stretched and sat up. I got on my stomach and pulled up my knees, ready to be fucked hard.

Bobby knelt behind me and guided his cock into my vagina from behind me. Then he leaned over my back and pulled my hair up. He gathered all the strands and twisted them around his hand. Bobby pulled until my head was dragged back, and then he started pounding.

With every thrust, his balls slapped against my clit. It was hard and fast, and I wanted it to never end. And it wasn’t just my clit that was enjoying this, pleasure was building inside my vagina too.

“Ah, that feels so good!” I cried.

I was shocked by how long Bobby managed to maintain the furious pace of his thrusting. It was long enough for me to cum, which I did. And he didn’t stop. The amazing feeling just continued to grow after I orgasmed, but I didn’t cum a second time before Bobby stopped thrusting and pushed his dick into me, filling me with his semen.

Then, he let go of my hair and rolled off me. I collapsed into the bed.

“Man, that’s a great way to wake up, honey.” Bobby said.

“Yes…” I agreed.

We laid quietly for a while before Bobby broke the silence.

“I’m going to be spending all day drinking water and being boring, and you won’t be allowed backstage anyway. So, it’ll probably be better for you to come to the arena with your parents, later.”

“Ok,” I agreed. I would rather be with him, but maybe he wanted to be alone before his fight?

We showered and had breakfast. Bobby ate all his own food. I missed him tasting my lips. How can you miss something you only had for two days? After we finished Bobby took me on his bike to my parents’ house. He pulled into the driveway and parked.

We were walking up the driveway when tires screeched behind us. I turned and the whole world froze. My ex jumped out of his Lexus and stormed towards us. Bobby stepped forward and in front of me.

“Irena, you bitch!” My ex screamed, “Get in the fucking car, we’re going home!”

“Irena’s not going anywhere with you.” Bobby said, calmly.

With his leather bike jacket on, you couldn’t tell how muscular Bobby was. But anyone who paid attention could see his cauliflower ears and many times broken nose and thick neck. My ex didn’t pay attention. And even if he had noticed the signs of a fighter, my ex probably thought he could take Bobby.

My ex walked up to Bobby and poked him in the chest with one index finger. “Who the fuck do you think you are? My fiancée goes where I say she goes.”

In an instant, the whole scene played out in my mind. Bobby would beat up my ex. He’d be arrested. He would miss his fight. His career would be ruined. I couldn’t let that happen.

I slipped in between the two men.

“Please, don’t hurt him, Bobby. He’s not worth it.”

“What the fuck, Irena?” My ex howled with indignation. “Are you cheating on me, bitch?”

“I’m not your fiancée anymore. I left the ring and a note.” I said while I kept my hands on Bobby’s arms. He would have to physically move me to beat up my ex, and I was hoping he cared too much about me to do that.

“Yeah, a week and a half ago, and you’re already riding bitch on some punk ass gangbanger’s bike?”

“You should not speak to Irena like that,” Bobby growled.

The door to the house slammed, but I didn’t turn to look.

“You’re not welcome here.” My dad said. “The police are on the way. You better not be here when they arrive.”

My ex deflated as the numbers against him grew. He wasn’t hyped enough to start a fight with two men. Instead, he looked at me.

“Irena, babe. I can’t live without you. Please come home?”

“We are over. Please never try to see me again.” I said. I don’t think I could have said those words three days ago. I would have been moved by his plea, worried about him, convinced it was my fault and I should try better. But Bobby had shown me how a real man acted when he cared. I could never go back.

Sirens sounded, faint but growing louder.

My ex started walking back to his car, then turned around and made one last comment, “I burned all your paintings, bitch. You always cared about your fucking art more than me. I hope it hurts.”

Then, he got in his car and accelerated away, tires screeching.

“I think you should come with me to the arena, honey.” Bobby said.

“I agree,” My dad said. “And I’m sorry Irena, but I think your mother and I should stay home with the kids instead of leaving them with a babysitter, just in case.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling responsible for my ex-fiancé’s behavior.

“It’s not your fault,” both men said at the same time.

Bobby hugged me close, “I’m glad you spoke up for yourself. But I really wish I could have hit him.” He added, his body tense.

We got to the arena two hours later, after filing a report about the incident with the police. Bobby and my dad had asked to start the process to get a restraining order. I didn’t think my ex would care, but they insisted it was a good idea.