FINALLY!!! Chapter Six(Waffles)
Title: I’ve Just Seen A Face: Chapter Six (Waffles)
Author: thetenwords
Rating: R sexual situation, profanity, and violence
Plot: Anne is your average small-town girl who gets herself caught up in her own version of her favorite fanfic, “Living Lennon”. Things don’t go like she planned and all she knows is she won’t forget her life before or after this bittersweet experience…
Warning: READ LIVING LENNON BEFORE YOU READ THIS STORY!!!! This isn’t a sequel, but it will help you kind of understand the plot. Plus, it’s a kick-ass story.
Disclaimer: As often as I check eBay, the Beatles are never ACTUALLY for sale. So I don’t own them. (Yet.)
As I wake from my deep sleep after a night of some very surprising naughty, I fear that all of this was real, rather than the simple hope of a dream. I creep out of the mattress, hoping dear God I do not wake the very light-sleeping man I had just killed the innocence of last night.
Before I can even slide completely off the mattress, I hear a key in my door, along with the sound of it being opened. The voice that greets me and explains this action is one in which makes terror shiver through my body. There was no voice so fearsome other than that of…
MY MOTHER.
Despite her look of an innocent old lady, though she is only fifty, she is pure evil in a bottle. She has crushed nearly every positive hope, every glimmer in my eye, and every possible piece of luck I had for eighteen years. And now she has walked through the door like nobody’s business whenever I actually have what I’ve been dreaming of all my life come true.
“Annie! I’m here!”
George awakens, “What the-“
“Shhhh! Now be quiet and I’ll-“
“ANNIE, WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?!?!?!” the monster shouts from what I can tell to be the living room.
“Just be quiet! I have to- erm… tend to something. Now just stay here. Please!” I kiss his nose, rising from my bed and sprinting to the living room, seeing the monstrosity that emotionally destroyed me.
“Anne. Never thought you’d show up.”
“I could say the same about you, mom.”
“Well, Kelsea said she hadn’t heard from you. So I decided to check in with you. Haven’t seen you in a while, anyway.”
“Uhh… I’m fine. I’ll call Kelsea back as soon as you leave.”
She threw her head back as she roared with laughter. “I’m going to be staying here, dearie. So you and I can catch up after these past two years. Now where’s the bathroom?”
I was ready to slap her senseless. She had seriously invited herself over after ignoring me for nineteen years??? “Uhh… Mom, you probably should stay at a hotel or something. It’ll probably be cleaner and more comfortable… or you could just go back to Arkansas…”
“Dear, you know me,” she began as I thought, Yeah right. “I would really like to catch up with you. And I’ll be much more comfortable with someone I love around.”
“I have to work. Why don’t you run along, now? Do some tourist stuff. I’ll be back in a few millenniums.”
“Well, I’ll let you get ready and go to work. I guess I’ll make a coffee run. But you had better be home by four.”
“You know, you could just e-mail me,” I muttered under my breath.
“Well, I guess I’d better leave…” she said, gathering up her purse.
“Yeah, guess so Wellitwasnicetalkingtoyoubye!!!!” I said, leading her to the door.
“Uhh… Anne?” a deep voice said, getting closer to me.
“Anne, is that…” She started turning around, but I shoved her out the door just in time, locking it milliseconds later.
“Anne?”
“GEORGE!!!”
“Anne?” he repeated, sounding more confused than inquisitive.
“WHAT?!?!?” I screamed.
“What exactly happened there?”
I rolled my eyes, still mad as hell. “That was my MOTHER. Who wanted to stay HERE. For God knows how long! And she now knows there is a man who stayed the night at my loft!!!”
George began to chuckle. “Nice.” He leaned toward me, his tongue already just slightly out.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!”
He pulled back, laughing. “I like it when you’re feisty.” He leaned forward, pressing both of his upper thighs to my lower torso. Sure enough, he was already hard as a rock. And no, that rhyme was NOT intended. (If you know what I mean…)
“Seriously?!?! Your presence could be devoured by the eater of souls herself and you want to bone me?”
He shrugged, and then quickly nodded. “Pretty much.”
I rolled my eyes as he leaned forward to kiss me again. “I have sexual needs, you know,” he added with a chuckle before snaking his arms around me and going for another one.
“I suppose I could help you meet those needs,” I quietly answered, placing a finger on the top of his nose. Despite the stressful situation I was in, George’s presence somehow made it all better.
“Such as right now, I need…”
I rolled my eyes. “On it.” I couldn’t help but giggle as he pecked my lips once more, before lifting me up. There was nothing romantic about it, just front to back. Quite frankly, it scared me, but he carried me back to my bed anyway.
.....
“What should I do?” I asked, cuddling up to him and smiling.
“Tell her,” he answered almost immediately, cradling my face in his hands. “That’s what I’d do.”
“I can’t just go, ‘Oh, hey Mom, I fucked a Dead Beatle that I got from Kelsea’s cousin’s time machine. And we’re going out as long as I don’t feed him McGriddles. Okay? Bye.’ How weird would that sound?”
George shrugged. “I know. It all sounds like a really bad fanfic.” {o.O}
“Yeah. I’m glad I’m not in one of those. So, do you have any other suggestions?”
“Uhhh… no. Not really.” He had the look on his face of a man: confusion.
“Well, you’re no help,” I said with a smile, kissing his palm.
“Why don’t you want to just tell her anyway?”
“It’s a long story. She basically has never said a compliment to me. Every time I’ve gotten my hopes up for something, she shatters my dream. She always wants me to do better than I can actually do.”
George nodded his head. “I see.”
I sighed. So what do you want to do today?” I asked, looking for my clothes.
“How about we go out to breakfast?”
“That’s where she’d be looking for us.”
“Exactly. You told her you’d be out at breakfast, and then you’d go to work. So she’s going to think you’re lying. And she WON’T look there.”
I was confused. Was George Harrison using reverse psychology? On my MOTHER? I was starting to like him a lot. I smiled softly and pecked him. “Alright. Do you want a McGriddle?”
Watching the blood drain from the man’s face was diabolically, evilly, sadly, and amazingly entertaining. “NO YOU TART!!! NEVER will I eat a McGriddle!”
I giggled. “Just kidding. How about waffle house?”
He thought about this for a moment. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea?”
“And why not?” I pondered aloud, not seeing the connection.
“Because of that rubbish book it said that men are like waffles and women are like spaghetti! I can never eat a damn breakfast in peace again!” he cried out.
I roared with laughter. “It’s not like it’s a diet book! Waffles won’t make you gay. Trust me, I go to pasta house all the time I would know.”
George grimaced as he looked into my smiling face. “Eww, you lesbo!”
I rolled my eyes, still laughing hard. “Yeah. I’m SO attracted to women. I’m so thinking about other girls when I’m sucking face with you.”
George made a pouty face and crossed his arms. “For all I know you could be. And I still think waffle house sounds like a gay male strip club.”
I smiled. “Like Chip and Dales’!”
George showed he was obviously confused at this response. “Umm… What?”
“I didn’t say anything. So… Waffle house it is!”
I hopped up and got dressed, with a regular t-shirt and sweats. Well, maybe the t-shirt was a little low-cut, but still.
.....
When we arrived, I got my usual greeting. “Oh. It’s YOU again,” and then a warm smile that showed I was just a used-to-be regular.
We sat down in a corner, where there was strangely a lack of windows. I particularly didn’t mind the privacy, only to find out later that neither did George.
Our waitress came up, eyeing George in a way that I particularly hated. Looking back, I know I couldn’t blame her, but still. He was my man. “Would you like anything?” She asked him, trying to look particularly flirty.
“I don’t KNOW! I haven’t looked over the bloody menu!” he said a little louder than needed.
She looked hurt. “You need more time?”
“Yes!!!” he answered looking at me with I don’t know what kind of look. I guess the best word would be antsy but that doesn’t even cover it.
She looked disappointed and left, but not before I muttered under my breath, “Stupid tart.”
George giggled, leaning forward and looking down my shirt, not even trying to be discreet. “Do you have a pen?” he asked Chuck and Napoleon. (The names my best gay guy friend had given to my breasts.)
“In my purse…” I answered slowly, putting my purse on the table and digging out a pen. George seized the pen so quickly he knocked my purse to the floor. I leaned forward to get it, but he smiled.
“I’ll get it, doll.” Before I knew it, I felt something jabbing into my upper thigh. But then I felt the thing move and I suddenly realized it. George Harrison was writing right next to my lady parts. I hadn’t even noticed him pulling up my sweats.
He wrote for longer than I expected, and just when I thought he was done, he moves to the other thigh. I tried not to squirm, but it was near impossible, as he pulled my hips closer to the table and started reaching his other hand down the elastic band of my pants and… dear God, he was like a rabbit! I practically only had to BREATHE to turn this guy on!
The waitress, of course, walked up right at that moment. She was obviously saddened at the fact George wasn’t there… well, in view… “What’ll ya have?” she asked quickly, barely looking at me.
“WATER!!!” I shouted, trying to release the dopamine surging through my brain.
She looked at me curiously before deciding to ignore me and walking away. Right after that, I saw George slip out from under the table, a smile plastered on his face. I tried to refrain from giggling. Instead I loudly whispered to him, “You proud of yourself, asshole?!?!”
He nodded, still wearing a shit-eating grin. “Yup. More than you’d ever know. You’re welcome.”
The waitress came back with my water, obviously glad to see George back from his long journey under the table. “And have you decided, sir?”
“I’ve already eaten this morning, but I’ll have French toast and orange juice,” he answered, looking at me with a sly smirk the whole time. “She’ll have a waffle. Ta make me jealous.”
I wasn’t mad at all after he said that, in fact, we both had a giggle when she left. I hadn’t been so happy in a while. After having a crappy home life and only a handful of friends, there was little to actually enjoy this much. But there was something about George that made me feel more alive, and more complete. Of course, the real trouble began when I got home and saw what he’d written.