We Both Paid the Same Stranger to Sublet the Same One-Bedroom, and Neither of Us Would Move Out novel · Chapter 20 of 24

Chapter 20: Not a Couch

The loveseat was four feet wide and shaped like a question mark.

By two o'clock on Saturday I had decided it was my favorite piece of furniture in Illinois.

The living room was empty.

Gloria had marched the other three down to the courtyard to wrestle tablecloths, and the sheet curtain hung slack.

Through the open window came the clatter of folding chairs and a man shouting about the ham.

Randy lay on the velvet with his boots off and one arm hooked over the back.

I lay on top of him in my underwear and his old Steelers shirt.

My legs dangled over the armrest and my cheek lay on his chest.

We had been like that for twenty minutes, and neither of us had said a word.

It was the happiest I had been in my life, and it was a Saturday afternoon on a couch that was not a couch.

"Your heart's slow," I said.

"I'm resting. Doctor's orders."

"It was seventy a minute ago."

"It was seventy when you did that."

"Did what?"

I moved my hips, an inch, and he drew a long breath through his nose.

"That."

"I'm resting too," I said. "I'm just resting with my hips."

He laughed, soft, and his hand slid down my back and over the curve of my ass, and stayed there.

There was no hurry in anything.

No dresser against the door, no clock, no hand over anyone's mouth.

Only the sun on the velvet and his palm on my skin and the thump of a mallet in the yard.

I lifted my head and kissed him.

It was a lazy kiss, a long one, with our eyes half shut.

Our tongues barely moved.

His hand slid up under the shirt and traced my spine, one vertebra at a time.

"I want to do something," I said against his mouth.

"You always want to do something."

"Something I haven't."

"Tell me."

I sat up, and straddled his hips, and pulled his shirt off me over my head.

I sat in nothing but a pair of cotton underwear, in the sunlight, with my hair falling in my face.

He looked up at me with his hands loose on my thighs.

"Take your pants off," I said.

"Yes, ma'am."

He lifted his hips and shoved off his sweatpants and boxers, and tossed them across the room.

His cock lay hard against his stomach.

I looked at it for a second, and then at his face, and then I moved up the velvet on my knees.

He understood a moment too late.

"Tina."

"Hands on my thighs."

"Tina."

"I'm going to sit on your face, Randy, and you're going to be good about it."

He made a sound I had never heard from anyone.

I pulled my underwear off and tossed it somewhere.

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