FIC: Turn the Page ~ Chapter Twenty-seven
Title: Turn the Page: Chapter Twenty-seven
Author: bugs
Genre: AU, Romance, Drama
Rating: MA
Word Count: 2,500
Chapter 27:
Bill's gaze roamed the cathedral's interior. He tuned out the priest's droning and the worshippers parroting back, and admired the soft, rustic colors of the plasterwork and child-faced saints peering at him from the niches.
He'd woken to find Laura pawing through her suitcase purposefully.
"Want breakfast?" he had rumbled from his warm nest in the fluffy duvet.
She gave him a tight smile. "I thought I'd go to the seven-thirty mass." Her tone suggested they'd been decadently lolling bed all day.
He couldn't stifle his groan. He wanted to support her with her thing, but there were later mass times...
"I'll go by myself--"
"I'm up. I'm up." He flipped the covers back, but she'd already ducked into the bathroom.
He checked the clock. They had an hour but both needed to shower and dress. He tugged the duvet back over his legs. He'd just wait...
He'd drifted back to sleep when Laura came bustling out in her robe with her hair up in a towel.
"Are you getting up?" she fussed at him.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered.
"If you trust me with the car, I'll be fine. You can read the Sunday paper in bed--" She sat in a chair and started to roll on her hose.
He cocked his head to watch the pale silk slide up her long legs. "I'm goin', I'm goin'..." He realized he sounded just like he did at ten when his grandmother would be nagging him to ready for Sunday mass. She liked to go early too.
Staggering into the bathroom, he emptied his bladder with a happy sigh and then slumped under the pounding hot water. When he finally opened the door to let the steam out, Laura pushed past him with another pinched smile to snatch the hair dryer.
"You could've just come in and grabbed it," he protested as she hurried out of the bathroom to dry her hair.
She didn't reply, but stared at the clock inching past seven as she ruffled her damp hair.
He shaved, still managing to nick his neck and quickly dried his hair as she stood by the front door, clutching her new purse.
It had made him feel very domestic. He smiled to himself thinking about it.
Laura crossed her legs, and her calf brushed his shin. He resisted the urge to cap her knee, hidden under her long, loose skirt. He also wanted to put his arm along her back, but didn't think that would fly.
Sighing, he shifted on the hard pew.
As she repeated the liturgy, Laura's face was filled with peace; she was obviously listening to the words where Bill was not. The creases at the corners of her eye and mouth were smoothed away by her tranquility and her gaze was distance.
She moved forward to kneel, her head downcast. Bill remained seated and watched her lips move reciting the prayer. He found himself becoming aroused and groaned inside. Too many memories of teenage years spent on these pews, girl watching...Now he had a girl; she was so close but so far away and he suddenly wanted her desperately. They should have stayed in bed, making lazy love, not sitting here, listening to some pious celibate telling them how to live their lives...
He writhed again, trying to disguise his problem, and stared up at Saint Sebastian's tormented face grimacing down from one of the wall murals. Bill had an arrow poking him too.
Laura settled back on the pew and smoothed her skirt down. Ignoring Bill's squirming, she touched his chest, straightening his askew tie. She appreciated that he'd dressed properly for church. It only he could have done it more quickly!
She'd been beside herself waiting for him to get ready. She always liked to be early for mass. Her irritation made her realize she'd been feeling a bit boxed in all weekend. Every time she turned around, he was there. His stubble in the sink, the seat up on the toilet, his shoulder pressed to hers in the car...Not that she didn't adore him, but...It was new. It was something to adapt to, and she didn't know if a weekend was enough time to do that. She had been right to be leery of moving in with him.
Although she'd rarely been alone in her religious community, it was still a solitary life. Close friendships were discouraged; even her relationship with Mother Elosha was that of a mentor and student. This constant companionship with another person waiting for her reply to a comment, his elastic mind ready to zing right back, was exhausting.
Drawing his hand into her lap, holding it loosely between her two hands, Laura sighed and refocused on the Eucharistic Prayer, driving away all these trivial everyday concerns.
Bill forced himself not to caress Laura's thigh and matched her sigh. Everyone shuffled in their pew and Bill realized it was nearly over.
Laura stood, looking around, but not toward the altar.
"Not going to take communion?" he asked.
She shook her head and slipped along the pew until she was in the side alcove with the votive stand. He watched her light six candles, his heart twitching in his chest. His grandmother--their grandmother--would light candles for a family he'd never known too.
He waited for her by the door. They exited into the bright fall day.
"Breakfast?" Bill said, shaking off the mood attending a church always put him in.
She looked at her watch. "Don't we need to check out?"
"Our flight's not until four. I asked for a late checkout," he said. "Eggs Benedict in Carmel, another drive through Pebble Beach, then back to..." He smiled at her. "Last chance to try that tub," he pointed out slyly.
She slipped her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.
Full from the meal, Laura reclined her car seat a bit and tightened her scarf under her chin. "I don't think I'll ever eat again," she moaned.
Bill chuckled and loosened his seatbelt. "Tell me about it."
He turned onto the scenic coastal road, driving slow enough to give her time to take in the views of the turquoise water and white sand coves.
She fiddled with the radio, turning it up. This surprised him; she didn't seem to care that much for music. Wrinkling his brow, he tried to place the song.
"Bill Idol?" he asked, horrified.
She gave him an embarrassed grin. "I haven't heard this song since high school."
"But Bill Idol?" he persisted. "I just didn't see you as a White Wedding sort of girl. Maybe Duran, Duran--"
She wrinkled her nose.
"I guess that's why you like me. Got a thing for bad boys," he said with satisfaction.
She rolled her eyes, refusing to encourage him anymore on this topic, particularly since he'd started humming under his breath.
He pulled into a parking lot by Seal Rock and they slipped off their shoes to stroll on the cool sand, darting away from the lapping cold waves when necessary.
"The water's such a pretty color, but so chilly," said Laura with a shiver.
Bill pulled her down against the bluff to nestle between his legs, wrapping his arms around her for warmth. His bare toes burrowed into the sand. He rested his chin on her shoulder. They watched long streams of brown pelicans fly close to the surface of the ocean. Bill pointed out the little dark shapes that were sea otters floating among the heavy fronds of kelp. Just like his body heat soaking through her clothes, she began to feel very safe and cherished.
"Ready to go back?" he murmured in her ear.
Desire effused her limbs. "Yes," she breathed.
But when they returned to the cottage, she still wasn't sure about the tub.
"We can warm up in it," Bill suggested. "And see where we go from there."
With an uncertain shrug, she shed her clothes and pinned up her hair as he filled the deep sunken tub.
"Too bad we don't have bubble bath," she said as she gingerly stepped into the hot water.
He followed, taking the seat. "Don't want that--" He coaxed her into his wet arms. "Couldn't do this then." Lowering his head, he sucked in her breast bobbing at the surface.
"Oh, yes..." she moaned, cradling his head. "I see..."
What she didn't really see was the point of being in the water. Although it was nice to float in and out of his embrace, she didn't find any advantage--He turned on the jets.
"Oh, that's nice," she groaned as the pressure beat on her lower back. All these sexual gymnastics were taking a toll on her body.
"Yeah," he rumbled, shifting over so the jet worked on his back muscles.
She slid into his arms, catching his erection between their bodies while they kissed. She had no idea how they could possibly do what they both wanted to do, but for now, she just enjoyed the feel of his warm, soft skin sliding across hers, the humidity of their arousal matching the sheen on their hot limbs.
He shared her thoughts. "Hfff," he mumbled. "Gotta..." He tried to pull her onto his lap, but when she knelt on the seat, she lost her balance and tumbled back into the water, sloshing it over the tub's rim.
Gasping and laughing, they paddled around, trying to find a position in the bubbling water.
"Wait--" Bill turned her, his palms cupping her breasts and supporting her weight at the same time. Their flesh was heavy and almost painful from the heat and stimulation. Still, she pressed down into his tightening fingers.
One of his hands slipped down to ease open her thighs. His thick shaft probed between her legs, making her breath quicken.
"Yes, Bill--" she demanded in a rush. "Yes--"
His lips against her damp shoulder, he shushed her as he retreated for a moment.
Her whimper that became a deep groan when he plunged forward and up, entering her with a long stroke.
"Uh...huh..." he mumbled illegibly.
She braced against the side of the tub, pushing back against his thrusts. He managed to get his balance on the tub's bottom and grunted with pleasure.
"We've got it," she cackled in triumph. He snickered, resting his sweat-sheened forehead between her shoulder blades.
Then he shifted her nearer to one of the jets and the pulses struck her clitoris. Her half-closed eyes snapped open at the vigorous massage of the swollen nub.
"Oh God," she hissed, shivers shaking her limbs.
His big arms held her close and he drove into her again and again, his breathing thundering against her cheek. The coursing water was traveling between her legs to thump against his tight scrotum.
Laughing and gasping, she floated closer to the water's stream, garnering a growl from Bill. His fingers found her mons, holding her open to the assault of the jet.
"Oh Bill, you sneaky bastard," she heard herself saying and blushed at her language. Her head fell back to rest on his shoulder as he chuckled with delight. Her orgasm had built slowly but intense currents were shimmying through her body, waves like those lapping over the tub's edge. She arched in Bill's grip, clamping his length so hard he could barely move. With her last gasps, she leaned forward, opening herself up to his barrage of deep strokes, letting him finished with deep grunts of triumph.
They slumped together on the rim, floating. Bill fumbled at the button and turned off the jets.
With a shaking hand, Laura put back up her curls that had come down. "Bill, do you have one of these tubs at your house?"
He laughed weakly. "No, sorry."
She hummed and caressed his broad, damp back.
"I could put one in though," he suggested, grinning at her over his meaty shoulder.
Rolling over, she drifted in the warm water. "I've got a better idea," she said dreamily. "Let's get a house down here. A little cottage like this, shingle-siding, just enough rooms, lots of bookshelves though..." Her thoughts bobbed along like the playful otters in the ocean.
Bill eased closer, tenderly kissing her collarbone, her pink nipples, lapped at the water gathered in the hollow of her throat. "Yeah, that sounds great," he said neutrally, forcing his breathing to remain steady. "You could get a job at the Stevenson School; I can write anywhere."
She saw it all now. Light yellow curtains fluttering in the misty air, her heels tapping across the wooden porch, coming home every afternoon. Bill in the front bowed window, watching for her as he wrote on his laptop.
The water cooled before she got further than the faded quilt on the cast-iron bedstead in the bedroom under the eves upstairs. With a sigh and a groan, she stood and got out of the tub.
Bill followed, making similar sounds. The draining water was loud as they were both silent in their own thoughts.
"Better pack," he said, scrubbing his hair dry with a towel.
"Yes," she said, wondering if it was possible to take back words.
With the bags stowed in the convertible's trunk, they entered the office to check out. Waiting for his receipt to print, Bill struck up a conversation with the elderly owner of the cottages, encouraging her stories of the changes to the community with increased tourism.
By now, Laura had learned that Bill drew out tales from everyone and anyone, collecting details for his writing, she assumed. However, she was still tired and sore. She had schoolwork to check when she returned home; she needed to rest.
"I'm going to sit in the car," Laura said, leaning against Bill to get his attention.
He glanced up. Rooting in his coat pocket, he pulled out the car keys. "Turn the heat on," he said. And with a wink, he added, "And the radio."
She wrinkled her nose at him and headed to the car. When she fumbled with the unfamiliar device on the keychain, she disentangled a thin credit card slip from it. As she slid into the passenger seat, she glanced at the paper to see if it was something Bill would want to keep. Her eyes widened when she read it.
Giving one last wave to the older woman, Bill hurried to the car, checking his watch for the time.
"I'm still full from breakfast; why don't we get a light lunch before heading to the airport," he suggested as he slid behind the wheel.
Laura, white-faced, sat rigidly beside him. "You gave me this with the keys," she said stonily, holding out the credit card slip.
"Okay," he said, unsure what was happening. He glanced at the slip. It was the receipt for the purse and scarf.
"How could you, Bill?" she asked raggedly.
End ~ Chapter 27
Author: bugs
Genre: AU, Romance, Drama
Rating: MA
Word Count: 2,500
Chapter 27:
Bill's gaze roamed the cathedral's interior. He tuned out the priest's droning and the worshippers parroting back, and admired the soft, rustic colors of the plasterwork and child-faced saints peering at him from the niches.
He'd woken to find Laura pawing through her suitcase purposefully.
"Want breakfast?" he had rumbled from his warm nest in the fluffy duvet.
She gave him a tight smile. "I thought I'd go to the seven-thirty mass." Her tone suggested they'd been decadently lolling bed all day.
He couldn't stifle his groan. He wanted to support her with her thing, but there were later mass times...
"I'll go by myself--"
"I'm up. I'm up." He flipped the covers back, but she'd already ducked into the bathroom.
He checked the clock. They had an hour but both needed to shower and dress. He tugged the duvet back over his legs. He'd just wait...
He'd drifted back to sleep when Laura came bustling out in her robe with her hair up in a towel.
"Are you getting up?" she fussed at him.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered.
"If you trust me with the car, I'll be fine. You can read the Sunday paper in bed--" She sat in a chair and started to roll on her hose.
He cocked his head to watch the pale silk slide up her long legs. "I'm goin', I'm goin'..." He realized he sounded just like he did at ten when his grandmother would be nagging him to ready for Sunday mass. She liked to go early too.
Staggering into the bathroom, he emptied his bladder with a happy sigh and then slumped under the pounding hot water. When he finally opened the door to let the steam out, Laura pushed past him with another pinched smile to snatch the hair dryer.
"You could've just come in and grabbed it," he protested as she hurried out of the bathroom to dry her hair.
She didn't reply, but stared at the clock inching past seven as she ruffled her damp hair.
He shaved, still managing to nick his neck and quickly dried his hair as she stood by the front door, clutching her new purse.
It had made him feel very domestic. He smiled to himself thinking about it.
Laura crossed her legs, and her calf brushed his shin. He resisted the urge to cap her knee, hidden under her long, loose skirt. He also wanted to put his arm along her back, but didn't think that would fly.
Sighing, he shifted on the hard pew.
As she repeated the liturgy, Laura's face was filled with peace; she was obviously listening to the words where Bill was not. The creases at the corners of her eye and mouth were smoothed away by her tranquility and her gaze was distance.
She moved forward to kneel, her head downcast. Bill remained seated and watched her lips move reciting the prayer. He found himself becoming aroused and groaned inside. Too many memories of teenage years spent on these pews, girl watching...Now he had a girl; she was so close but so far away and he suddenly wanted her desperately. They should have stayed in bed, making lazy love, not sitting here, listening to some pious celibate telling them how to live their lives...
He writhed again, trying to disguise his problem, and stared up at Saint Sebastian's tormented face grimacing down from one of the wall murals. Bill had an arrow poking him too.
Laura settled back on the pew and smoothed her skirt down. Ignoring Bill's squirming, she touched his chest, straightening his askew tie. She appreciated that he'd dressed properly for church. It only he could have done it more quickly!
She'd been beside herself waiting for him to get ready. She always liked to be early for mass. Her irritation made her realize she'd been feeling a bit boxed in all weekend. Every time she turned around, he was there. His stubble in the sink, the seat up on the toilet, his shoulder pressed to hers in the car...Not that she didn't adore him, but...It was new. It was something to adapt to, and she didn't know if a weekend was enough time to do that. She had been right to be leery of moving in with him.
Although she'd rarely been alone in her religious community, it was still a solitary life. Close friendships were discouraged; even her relationship with Mother Elosha was that of a mentor and student. This constant companionship with another person waiting for her reply to a comment, his elastic mind ready to zing right back, was exhausting.
Drawing his hand into her lap, holding it loosely between her two hands, Laura sighed and refocused on the Eucharistic Prayer, driving away all these trivial everyday concerns.
Bill forced himself not to caress Laura's thigh and matched her sigh. Everyone shuffled in their pew and Bill realized it was nearly over.
Laura stood, looking around, but not toward the altar.
"Not going to take communion?" he asked.
She shook her head and slipped along the pew until she was in the side alcove with the votive stand. He watched her light six candles, his heart twitching in his chest. His grandmother--their grandmother--would light candles for a family he'd never known too.
He waited for her by the door. They exited into the bright fall day.
"Breakfast?" Bill said, shaking off the mood attending a church always put him in.
She looked at her watch. "Don't we need to check out?"
"Our flight's not until four. I asked for a late checkout," he said. "Eggs Benedict in Carmel, another drive through Pebble Beach, then back to..." He smiled at her. "Last chance to try that tub," he pointed out slyly.
She slipped her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.
Full from the meal, Laura reclined her car seat a bit and tightened her scarf under her chin. "I don't think I'll ever eat again," she moaned.
Bill chuckled and loosened his seatbelt. "Tell me about it."
He turned onto the scenic coastal road, driving slow enough to give her time to take in the views of the turquoise water and white sand coves.
She fiddled with the radio, turning it up. This surprised him; she didn't seem to care that much for music. Wrinkling his brow, he tried to place the song.
"Bill Idol?" he asked, horrified.
She gave him an embarrassed grin. "I haven't heard this song since high school."
"But Bill Idol?" he persisted. "I just didn't see you as a White Wedding sort of girl. Maybe Duran, Duran--"
She wrinkled her nose.
"I guess that's why you like me. Got a thing for bad boys," he said with satisfaction.
She rolled her eyes, refusing to encourage him anymore on this topic, particularly since he'd started humming under his breath.
He pulled into a parking lot by Seal Rock and they slipped off their shoes to stroll on the cool sand, darting away from the lapping cold waves when necessary.
"The water's such a pretty color, but so chilly," said Laura with a shiver.
Bill pulled her down against the bluff to nestle between his legs, wrapping his arms around her for warmth. His bare toes burrowed into the sand. He rested his chin on her shoulder. They watched long streams of brown pelicans fly close to the surface of the ocean. Bill pointed out the little dark shapes that were sea otters floating among the heavy fronds of kelp. Just like his body heat soaking through her clothes, she began to feel very safe and cherished.
"Ready to go back?" he murmured in her ear.
Desire effused her limbs. "Yes," she breathed.
But when they returned to the cottage, she still wasn't sure about the tub.
"We can warm up in it," Bill suggested. "And see where we go from there."
With an uncertain shrug, she shed her clothes and pinned up her hair as he filled the deep sunken tub.
"Too bad we don't have bubble bath," she said as she gingerly stepped into the hot water.
He followed, taking the seat. "Don't want that--" He coaxed her into his wet arms. "Couldn't do this then." Lowering his head, he sucked in her breast bobbing at the surface.
"Oh, yes..." she moaned, cradling his head. "I see..."
What she didn't really see was the point of being in the water. Although it was nice to float in and out of his embrace, she didn't find any advantage--He turned on the jets.
"Oh, that's nice," she groaned as the pressure beat on her lower back. All these sexual gymnastics were taking a toll on her body.
"Yeah," he rumbled, shifting over so the jet worked on his back muscles.
She slid into his arms, catching his erection between their bodies while they kissed. She had no idea how they could possibly do what they both wanted to do, but for now, she just enjoyed the feel of his warm, soft skin sliding across hers, the humidity of their arousal matching the sheen on their hot limbs.
He shared her thoughts. "Hfff," he mumbled. "Gotta..." He tried to pull her onto his lap, but when she knelt on the seat, she lost her balance and tumbled back into the water, sloshing it over the tub's rim.
Gasping and laughing, they paddled around, trying to find a position in the bubbling water.
"Wait--" Bill turned her, his palms cupping her breasts and supporting her weight at the same time. Their flesh was heavy and almost painful from the heat and stimulation. Still, she pressed down into his tightening fingers.
One of his hands slipped down to ease open her thighs. His thick shaft probed between her legs, making her breath quicken.
"Yes, Bill--" she demanded in a rush. "Yes--"
His lips against her damp shoulder, he shushed her as he retreated for a moment.
Her whimper that became a deep groan when he plunged forward and up, entering her with a long stroke.
"Uh...huh..." he mumbled illegibly.
She braced against the side of the tub, pushing back against his thrusts. He managed to get his balance on the tub's bottom and grunted with pleasure.
"We've got it," she cackled in triumph. He snickered, resting his sweat-sheened forehead between her shoulder blades.
Then he shifted her nearer to one of the jets and the pulses struck her clitoris. Her half-closed eyes snapped open at the vigorous massage of the swollen nub.
"Oh God," she hissed, shivers shaking her limbs.
His big arms held her close and he drove into her again and again, his breathing thundering against her cheek. The coursing water was traveling between her legs to thump against his tight scrotum.
Laughing and gasping, she floated closer to the water's stream, garnering a growl from Bill. His fingers found her mons, holding her open to the assault of the jet.
"Oh Bill, you sneaky bastard," she heard herself saying and blushed at her language. Her head fell back to rest on his shoulder as he chuckled with delight. Her orgasm had built slowly but intense currents were shimmying through her body, waves like those lapping over the tub's edge. She arched in Bill's grip, clamping his length so hard he could barely move. With her last gasps, she leaned forward, opening herself up to his barrage of deep strokes, letting him finished with deep grunts of triumph.
They slumped together on the rim, floating. Bill fumbled at the button and turned off the jets.
With a shaking hand, Laura put back up her curls that had come down. "Bill, do you have one of these tubs at your house?"
He laughed weakly. "No, sorry."
She hummed and caressed his broad, damp back.
"I could put one in though," he suggested, grinning at her over his meaty shoulder.
Rolling over, she drifted in the warm water. "I've got a better idea," she said dreamily. "Let's get a house down here. A little cottage like this, shingle-siding, just enough rooms, lots of bookshelves though..." Her thoughts bobbed along like the playful otters in the ocean.
Bill eased closer, tenderly kissing her collarbone, her pink nipples, lapped at the water gathered in the hollow of her throat. "Yeah, that sounds great," he said neutrally, forcing his breathing to remain steady. "You could get a job at the Stevenson School; I can write anywhere."
She saw it all now. Light yellow curtains fluttering in the misty air, her heels tapping across the wooden porch, coming home every afternoon. Bill in the front bowed window, watching for her as he wrote on his laptop.
The water cooled before she got further than the faded quilt on the cast-iron bedstead in the bedroom under the eves upstairs. With a sigh and a groan, she stood and got out of the tub.
Bill followed, making similar sounds. The draining water was loud as they were both silent in their own thoughts.
"Better pack," he said, scrubbing his hair dry with a towel.
"Yes," she said, wondering if it was possible to take back words.
With the bags stowed in the convertible's trunk, they entered the office to check out. Waiting for his receipt to print, Bill struck up a conversation with the elderly owner of the cottages, encouraging her stories of the changes to the community with increased tourism.
By now, Laura had learned that Bill drew out tales from everyone and anyone, collecting details for his writing, she assumed. However, she was still tired and sore. She had schoolwork to check when she returned home; she needed to rest.
"I'm going to sit in the car," Laura said, leaning against Bill to get his attention.
He glanced up. Rooting in his coat pocket, he pulled out the car keys. "Turn the heat on," he said. And with a wink, he added, "And the radio."
She wrinkled her nose at him and headed to the car. When she fumbled with the unfamiliar device on the keychain, she disentangled a thin credit card slip from it. As she slid into the passenger seat, she glanced at the paper to see if it was something Bill would want to keep. Her eyes widened when she read it.
Giving one last wave to the older woman, Bill hurried to the car, checking his watch for the time.
"I'm still full from breakfast; why don't we get a light lunch before heading to the airport," he suggested as he slid behind the wheel.
Laura, white-faced, sat rigidly beside him. "You gave me this with the keys," she said stonily, holding out the credit card slip.
"Okay," he said, unsure what was happening. He glanced at the slip. It was the receipt for the purse and scarf.
"How could you, Bill?" she asked raggedly.
End ~ Chapter 27