Smut 69: Satin
Detective Jimmy Deakins remembered his prom fondly enough. He did not wear a powder blue tux, his date looked amazing, and everyone had a good time. Plenty of kids got drunk, a good number lost their virginity and there were two spectacular fights. At the end of the night he delivered his date back to her father tired, happy, and with her virtue intact. They dealt with that another night.
He bullied Alex until she would discuss her prom. Because of the age difference and the awkwardness that could create, she kept so much of her school related life away from him. Prom was too important, though, too encompassing in her life. She didn't reveal anything at all until she'd made her decision about going. Although her ex-boyfriend, David, asked her, she declined that invitation in favor of one from the black kid he'd seen her with. Ritchie was a good friend and she told Jimmy she knew she could have fun with him without any pressure.
Jimmy was relieved she was going. She was seventeen, a popular girl with lots of friends. She was supposed to go to prom, not sit home thinking about the married man she was having an affair with. He didn't want her putting any part of her life on hold. Having her share about the event was a bittersweet victory, though. She poured over photos of dresses searching for one he would never see her wear. He was surprised to find he couldn't watch her excitement without seeing his daughter. Some day she'd flip through magazine after magazine followed by newspaper ads looking for the perfect dress.
She was so busy the two weeks before the dance; he didn't get to see her dress. Her mother took her out to pick up the one they'd chosen but there was some sort of problem with it. At the last minute, after some sort of mad negotiation, she got a new one. She told him the whole story on the phone, but she was so excited and had so little time to talk, he couldn't follow most of it. The dress was blue, he got that much, and she loved it.
When he hung up, he knew one other thing. The night of prom he needed to make sure he had no booze in the house. Thinking of her dancing the night away in the arms of boys he didn't know, most of who knew they'd be damn lucky to have her look their way, was going to hurt like hell. He'd already spent a fair bit of time thinking first of all the times he'd held her, then all the times he'd wanted to and couldn't. Finally he'd thought of the times he'd danced with Angie.
Not long after Alex's call, Angie had telephoned again. There wasn't much to it. She had questions about some bills and a quick story about their daughter. What surprised him was she asked about work. She smartly asked a specific question, asking after his partner, but it was more than she'd done since he moved out. He hung up and got a beer, unsure what to make of the call. They hadn't laughed, but it had still been an easy conversation. His chest ached with memories of other, equally easy conversations about the details of their life.
What the hell was he doing? In one ear he had a girl, a child, telling him about the prom. In the other was his wife talking about their child. And in the middle of it, he wasn't doing anything so different from what he'd done all along. He went to work, did his job well, provided for his family even if he wasn't living with them, and spent as much time with his daughter as he could. In place of Angie was Alex. That was the only difference. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. That wasn't the only difference. He wasn't fighting with either woman. That had to be a good thing on some level.
He let himself think that for a few moments, then forced himself to be brutally honest. While he was there, in that dingy apartment, he was dallying with a child when he should have been killing himself to get his wife back. For all his relationship with Alex was growing, his relationship with Angie was fading into a friendship. That wasn't right. And where was that girl, anyway? Out planning and working toward an event he could never attend with her.
He solved the booze problem that night by drinking up what was left in the apartment.
Alex Eames' life was taken over by the prom. She was on the decorating committee, the music committee, and she was fighting like hell to get her parents to agree to get her group of friends a hotel room for the night. That last one didn't seem to be working out so well. She had a feeling they'd end up at Susan Edmund's house, which wouldn't be so bad. At least her dad wasn't a cop. Not that there would be drinking. After her birthday, Alex laid down the law on that one.
Unlike some of her friends, Alex didn't have to worry about expectations from her date. Her buddy Ritchie, who had been the only one of her friends who said dumping David was a good thing, was gay. She didn't tell Jimmy that, though, there didn't seem any point. He'd lobbied so hard for her to go, even though she knew he would have rather taken her out on his own. He interrupted her dress search to drag her out of her chair and spin her around the room. It clearly didn't matter who she was dancing with if it wasn't him. His expression while they danced made her sad.
Not seeing him in the weeks before the dance made her sad, too, although she figured that was for the best. She couldn't think or talk about anything else. Her younger brother had been steering clear of her for days. Her father had a haunted look. Every so often he looked at her younger sister and shuddered. He knew he'd have to go through all this again in a few years. Alex felt a little badly for him, when she slowed down long enough to think about it.
Mostly she thought about whether there would be enough streamers to cover the entry to the fire hall they were using. She also thought about how badly she'd have to beat up the DJ if he didn't bring the music they'd requested. She spared a few minutes on Ritchie trying to find a suit, but only a few minutes. School work was done the second she got home, rushed through at light speed so she could work on everything else.
In the midst of it all, she though of Jimmy at the oddest times. When planning where the decorations would go, she wished she had him there so he could reach. At night in bed, just before falling asleep, she imagined being in his arms, dancing in a fancy ballroom somewhere. For some reason she thought it might be New Year's Eve since there was champagne everywhere. The fantasy was always the same. Same dress, same music, same expression in his eyes. Not like when they danced in his apartment. In her dream he was happy.
A few days before prom, she got a call from Theresa. It took a few minutes before Alex could work out what she wanted. First she got a long story about Theresa's boyfriend Stan and how her dad didn't like the guy. Then there was some other story about how Stan had to work the night of prom and Theresa was going with someone else. Finally she came out with it. Theresa wanted Alex to cover for her. She wanted to tell her parents she was spending the night with Alex doing last minute things for prom.
Alex agreed readily enough. It wasn't a big deal. She'd covered for people before when she knew where they were going. Theresa would be at Stan's brother's place, a guy she actually liked better than Stan. There wouldn't be drinking, either since Stan was a wrestler and took it seriously. Only after they'd worked out some of the details did it occur to her that covering could work both ways. The only problem was, she couldn't tell Theresa where she was going.
Reasonably, of course, that wasn't the only problem. The whole thing was a logistical nightmare. She had to get supplies, cart her dress, and figure out what she'd say if for some reason he sent her home. Him sending her home was a very real possibility, too. A few hours stolen on a weeknight or an afternoon on a Saturday were quite different from spending a whole night. Finally she decided she'd work it out. One way or another, she would give him the chance for the night. It would be up to him whether he took it.
Eventually it took convincing her mother she would get plenty of pictures of herself in her dress on the way to prom, convincing Ritchie that she should pick him up, convincing Stan's brother to buy her a bottle of wine and convincing herself she wasn't out of her mind. That last one didn't work very well. The others went surprisingly smoothly and the night before prom she found herself standing outside Jimmy's door in her dress with a large duffle at her feet.
Jimmy had his dinner on the table, a soda beside it rather than beer, and the news on. Since he wasn't expecting anyone, he took the time to look through the peephole. Not believing what he saw, he opened the door slowly and stood well back to take in the vision before him. Even after a full minute he couldn't speak, so he stepped further back and waved her in. Only then did he notice the bag at her feet. He surged forward to take it from her. He must have startled her because she took a half step back. Grabbing her arm with his other hand, he guided her into the room and shut the door behind her.
Once the door was shut, he dropped her arm and stepped away from her, openly staring at her. Her hair was up in a mass of complex curls, a style women accomplished with seeming ease but he never understood. She wore more make up than he'd ever seen on her, but it still wasn't much. And her dress was stunning. More a lavender than blue, it hugged her curves down to her hips then fell away from her in a cloud of layers. Only because the top was practically strapless did it not over power her petite form.
He looked down at the bag in his hand, then back at her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you running away from home?" His voice tensed more than he liked on that question.
She laughed softly, blushing. "No, of course not." She met his eyes firmly. "But I'm not planning on going home before the prom and I can't wear this the whole time." She waved at the dress. "Plus, I brought a few things just for tonight."
He lifted the bag a little, trying to gauge what she'd brought. "Bit small for a band."
She laughed. "Not too small for a DJ, though." He must have looked confused, because she shook her head. "I have two tapes, a bottle of champagne, and some of those decorations you pop and the confetti goes everywhere."
He set the bag on the couch and put his hands out to her. She looked nervous, but she went into his arms and put her head on his chest. For a few minutes they stayed that way, just being close. Finally he sighed. "How did you manage it?"
She shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm here. I don't have to leave until about four-thirty tomorrow." She pulled back and met his eyes. "I don't have to stay, if you don't want me to, but I can."
He pulled her back against him, holding her head against his chest while he thought it through. Of course he wanted her there. The idea of waking up with a warm, willing body beside his made his breath catch. At best they'd ever dozed together even on their longest days. To fall asleep beside her, to have breakfast and talk about the coming day all sounded impossible. She shifted in his arms and he groaned. It wasn't impossible. She was there. Right there with a bag packed.
That begged the question of if he should. He groaned again. It was too late to say he shouldn't. That choice was made long before. Turning her away would only be hurtful to them both. She'd gone to a lot of trouble to be there. Very slowly he pulled back and looked her over. "Music, huh?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Some new, some old, mostly slow dance stuff." She blushed. "I thought it would be nice. I'm sorry if this is a bad idea."
He pulled her back again, shaking his head. "No, honey, it's not a bad idea. It's the sweetest thing anyone has done for me in a very long time." He kissed her hair softly, thinking that of all the nice things he'd had lately, almost all of them revolved around her. "Thank you for doing this."
He could feel her relax and smiled against her hair. He had to pull back a little to hear her when she whispered a moment later. "I wanted to dance with you. To really dance."
He nodded, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. "I need to change. Can't take my best girl dancing looking like I just rolled off the couch." He glanced over at his meal, cooling on the table. "Have you eaten?" When she shook her head, he guided her to the couch and sat her down. "You wait here. I'll make something a bit nicer, then get changed while it cooks."
She shook her head. "You don't have to."
He leaned down to kiss her again. "Yes, I do. If we're going to make a proper night of it, then that's what we are going to do."
She sat on his couch, dressed to the nines, and waited for him to prepare a meal. He puttered around, seemingly taking his time, while she stared at him. She couldn't care less about eating. Reminding herself that the idea had been to give him an evening he would enjoy, she took a long breath and sank back into the couch. It wasn't like watching him move was a chore.
He took the chicken breast he'd plated but not touched and chopped it up to add to rice and fresh vegetables. Teasing that while it wasn't fancy, it would keep them going, he let the rice cook while he went to change. Keeping her eyes closed, she sat on her hands to keep from pulling at the layers of her skirt. Finally she got up and stirred the rice just for something to do.
She was standing at the stove when he came back in. Hearing him t'sking behind her, she turned slowly. She'd seen him in suits plenty of times, but he'd clearly taken special care. The suit was pinstriped and the dark blue shirt matched the color of the stripe perfectly. His tie had that same color in it on top of a charcoal grey. She let out the breath she'd been holding as a low whistle. He looked more handsome than she remembered ever seeing him.
His blush completed the look. He crossed to her and pulled her close for a deep kiss before turning his attention to the meal. Banishing her back to the couch, he finished up and set the table for them. After setting the food out, he turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't there something about wine?"
She put her hand over her mouth and groaned. "In my bag. I should have put it in the fridge." She got out the bottle of champagne and handed it to him. His eyebrow rose further and she shrugged. "I gave the guy a wad of money and said spend it all. I don't know anything about that stuff."
He shook his head, looking at the bottle again. "Wad of money is right. How about we put this away for after some dancing?" When she nodded, he did just that, then came back and helped her into her chair. Before moving to his seat he leaned down and kissed her. It was the first real, passionate kiss he'd given her since she got there. He kissed her so firmly she grabbed at his shirt because she felt like she was falling backwards. Stepping back from her, he squeezed her hand, chuckling softly.
The meal was simple, but flavorful, and he insisted they finish it. Periodically he leaned over and kissed her, although never as thoroughly as at the start of the meal. It was the longest meal of her life. Much longer than when she'd cooked for him at home. Then she'd been distracted by her family, by the details of managing the meal. All she had for this meal was him kissing her. That and him lifting her hand to kiss it. By the time he let them finish she was shaking.
He, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber. She wanted to smack him. No matter how much they enjoyed teasing each other, this was maddening. If she leaned toward him for a kiss, he pointed at her plate. She tried to touch his leg and he put her hand back on the table. What did he think she was going to do? There was no way she could jump him wearing a formal gown. Or at least, not if she had to wear it again the next night.
Finally he pushed his plate back and patted his belly. She glared at him, which just made him laugh. He stood and pulled her into his arms, still laughing hard. "I'm sorry, honey, I know I'm driving you nuts." He kissed her hair and hugged her. "Why don't you go set up the music. I'll get the lights and then we can dance for a bit."
She nodded slowly, even though it meant letting him go. Tipping her face toward him, she begged a kiss before going. His arms tightened around her until she gasped, but the kiss was delicate. When she tried to press harder he pulled back slowly.
"Go on, honey. Get the music going." Suddenly she understood why he was holding back. His voice was husky, rough with need. With the prospect of spending so much time in his arms looming in front of them, she'd been only been thinking of the dancing. He, clearly, had thought that through to the next stage.
Shivering, she nodded. Waiting until he let her go, she backed away slowly. The tapes were right on top of her bag and she found them easily despite shaking hands. She felt like seven kinds of idiot and for the first time in a while with him, like a kid. Dancing with him would be special. It would be something she remembered the rest of her life, no matter what happened with them.
He waited until she had the music going to turn out the lights. She didn't realize he'd lit candles on the dining table and the end tables. Looking around at the room, she moaned. This might have been her idea, but he was making it real. Not that real was a word she could bear to use at that moment.
She stepped forward slowly, blinking to adjust her eyes to the candle light. He had a hand out for her and she reached for him with a shaky hand. His soft laugh made her blush even hotter than she already was as he pulled her close and got a hand on her back. Then they were moving in time to the song and she forgot everything else.
Jimmy had to close his eyes as they started dancing. If he looked down at the girl in his arms he'd lose it. From minute to minute his impression of her changed. In a blink she went from being a child in costume to the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. Now that he had her in his arms, in the dark, he hoped it would be easier. With her body tight against his he should be able to remember this was his lover.
Then he realized how heavily she was breathing. Her breasts pressed into him with increasing regularity as the music slowed. Her hand tightened in his and he groaned softly when he felt her hips grind against his. Finally opening his eyes, he looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. She was lost in the music, her lips moving with the words.
He leaned down and kissed her, brushing against her so lightly she didn't have to stop singing if she didn't want. Her eyes flew open and she smiled at him. True to his fear, her gentle smile was too much for him. He pulled her hard against him and kissed her. One hand went to her hair, his fingers tangling in the curls as he forced his tongue past her lips.
When her moan turned to a whimper, he released her. Knowing how rough he had to sound, he put his lips to her ear and whispered. "I'm going to make tonight perfect for you, Alex, the way you've made it perfect for me."
Before she could respond, he dipped her, swinging her so low she almost hit the floor. When she was back up she was laughing and they moved seamlessly into the next song. Further discussion of the details could wait. For now, they would dance.
3689