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Well, it's late, but that's hardly my fault... The board was down since yesterday afternoon, so the chapter I've had finished (basically) for the past week got delayed until evening.

This one contains more mature and adult content, just as fair warning; most of that is in the second half, though. It's also setting a record for my longest chapter, and barely comes in short enough to split between two posts (I'm prepping a third in case I'm asked to split it further, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it).

Without further ado, I'll let you get on with reading.

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Chapter 35 – That's Amore (explicit)

Soft, symphonic, classical music plays through the radio, which Mom hums along with absently, and there's a cold rush of air flowing across my face from a nearby vent, but otherwise the car ride is wholly peaceful. There's a pink sunset starting to edge along the horizon, furthered by tinted windows that keep the back seats perpetually dim, so we're afforded some privacy. As we near the city, I can already see the distant buildings in silhouette, growing steadily closer, and threatening to bring an early twilight; luckily, I have my captivated protector beside me, though he's not much of a fighter.

With his eyes closed, Hisao leans gently against my side, probably for warmth as much as closeness since the air conditioner is set unreasonably high; Mom has control over the thermostat, and she always likes to keep it cold. There's a relaxed smile dominating his serene expression, and he hasn't spoken a word for almost the entire ride, but I'm perfectly content to sit and enjoy the relative quiet; keeping close like this, we don't really need words anyway.

Unless I count the night we spent on the bungalow couch, which wasn't quite the same, this is probably the most comfortable silence we've ever shared. Then I was partially addled by alcohol, and pulled him down next to me because a subconscious desire took me over during an uninhibited moment, but now it's different. After careful consideration, I know he loves me, and I love him, so, having shared ourselves openly, I'm content to keep calm in quiet moments like this, and enjoy the feeling of being in love; apparently exposure to him and Mom brings out the romantic in me.

I think it may have to do with the gratification, too...

When we cross under an overpass, the green countryside quickly starts turning into cement and steel towers, but I don't feel quite so small this time. The skyline gets darker, the sun vanishes behind silhouetted buildings, and soon the cityscape completely dominates the view outside the window, but that doesn't bother me either. Knowing that Hisao will be there with me, even if he might feel just as overwhelmed, helps assuage my childish fears about walking unprotected through the big, mean city; it's among his more lovable qualities.

What I do find distressing is that Mom's destination is apparently in an older part of town, and the narrow streets she's driving us through aren't well marked. While squinting and scanning everywhere except at the road, she continually lifts a notepad up to read a set of hurriedly-scrawled directions—I think I know why Midori grabbed the wheel earlier.

Panic, and a desire to live...

As we turn down another tiny, one-way street, I notice Yoko grasping the armrest in front of me, wincing with her eyes closed, and biting her lip; probably to keep from screaming. After a few moments of panic, she turns to start saying something, but gets cut off by Mom's cheerful announcement.

“We're almost there~!”

As Mom slows the car to a crawl, there's a collective gasp for air, which she ignores, and Yoko manages to ease off the armrest. Beside me, Hisao has gone tense, and his eyes keep darting around comically, but I stifle my laughter so he doesn't notice I'm enjoying his agony. Even though I'm sure the worst of it is over, I'm letting him panic for a while; I don't want to deny him the wholly thrilling experience of being a passenger in Mom's car.

I consider it a test of his endurance...

Soon Mom finds her way into a small parking lot, and there's actually a space open near the front, which is either dumb luck or divine intervention, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As the car comes to a halt, which brings another collective sigh of relief, she turns a spirited smile toward the back seats to make another declaration.

“Alright, we're here~!”

It all ends too soon for my amusement, but we'll be driving back with her, so I'll get another opportunity to watch my friends squirm, and see Hisao turn pale. Having been through at least a dozen minor car accidents with Mom, and after being reminded of that yesterday, I realize I've gotten used to her driving antics. With that in mind, I feel eager to share that experience with my friends, if only to watch their tense reactions.

I'd call it an evil kind of love...

Now that we've stopped, Tadao leans forward and turns a curious look over Hisao toward me to inquire, “Where exactly is here?”

Shrugging, I point at the driver's seat and reply, “This is Mom's destination—ask her.”

“Ina?” he prompts, reaching for the sliding-door handle.

“You'll see soon enough, Tadao~!” she replies, stepping out of the car before he can ask anything further.

As we're exiting the car, I quietly wince at the strange way my feet hit the ground, but with Hisao's arm to hold onto, walking in these glorified torture devices isn't so bad—that might be their purpose, actually. When Mom passes by, Hisao nervously loosens his usual close hold, but I pull him back against my side, needing the crutch as much as I want to keep him near. Whatever other embarrassment I may suffer tonight, I don't think Mom will even bat an eye at our proximity, and I'd rather Hisao not find out I'm a klutz on these shoes.

Though I do like that they put me closer to his eye level...

Dusk has settled over the many-storied buildings, and long shadows cast the streets in an early twilight. Constructed from brick and mortar rather than cement and iron, this section of the city looks a lot older than the rest—I find it charming, though parts of it smell weird. Instead of modern street lights, there are paper lanterns hanging high above from wrought-iron arms, along with colorful streamers strung along under the second floor windows.

The bright signs hanging over narrow storefronts indicate a bakery, a small tailor shop, a small grocer, an antique store, and there's an open-air spice kiosk blocking the end of an alleyway. The shopkeepers look out at our party with some curious expressions, but that's nothing unexpected; we make for quite the well-dressed troupe, and probably appear rather out of place in this grittier section of town. Mom leads us past all of them with Midori at her side, Amaya and Tadao following, Hisao and I behind them, and Yoko bringing up the rear—our lovely red caboose.

“What's that smell~?” Amaya asks, sniffing the spice-scented air, “It's heavenly~!”

Taking a deep breath, Mom smiles broadly and replies, “Coriander, garlic... nutmeg... probably basil and parsley... not to mention fresh-baked bread—the smells of home!”

Feeling somewhat deflated, I inquire, “Italy home?”

“It's my second home, Kitten—one I hope you'll come visit after school is over.”

At hearing her mention visiting Italy, I tighten my grip on Hisao. It's not that I'm reluctant to see that side of my family history in person, but traveling there would require either flying or boat travel, and I'm not good with any of the above. Her comments and my increased grip cause Hisao to turn a concerned look down at me, but I don't want to embarrass myself with petty fears. Shaking my head slightly, I rub his arm and shrug, hoping he won't ask directly. Luckily, he's getting good at reading my silent gestures, and decides to change the subject instead of dwelling on my reaction.

“So, Aiko tells me you're a chef-turned-instructor.”

“Indeed,” she replies, smiling over her shoulder, “In fact, we'll be dining at an establishment owned by a former classmate of mine. Mister Gianni was here studying Japanese cuisine, and I ended up being his translator,” she explains, and I recall the name immediately.

“Uncle Enzo?” I ask cheerfully.

“Oh, he'll probably adore you calling him that~! But remember he's not exactly your uncle, Kitten—just a family friend,” she corrects, shrugging slightly and smiling. “He moved back here a few years ago to open Olive Riso—an Italian-Japanese fusion eatery. I haven't seen him in ten years, though...”

While she trails off and looks away, I continue her story, “Uncle Enzo taught me a lot of the Italian I know.”

Midori turns toward me and remarks, “I don't remember an Uncle Enzo...”

“You were probably too young to remember, Midi,” I reply, smiling toward Mom, “she was around five or six last time we saw him, right, Mom?”

“Around that, yes,” she agrees, then looks over her shoulder and nods. “In any case; he's expecting us, and was kind enough to guarantee some privacy,” she adds, smiling broadly as she turns to face front. “It's a casual-formal place, and the staff will tolerate... rowdy behavior,” she says coyly, laughing lightly before continuing, “But don't get too carried away~!”

I doubt laid-back Uncle Enzo would ever mind us getting a little rowdy...

The walk from the car park is longer than I expected, and my feet start to hurt before long, but I steel myself and trudge onward. If Hisao doesn't like my increasingly heavy lean, he'll complain, or at least look at me questioningly. Thankfully none of that happens, and we soon near the end of another street.

Ahead of us, Mom stops and turns, causing the whole group to stop, then she nods in my direction, beckoning me to join her. Leaving Hisao's side tentatively, I try my hardest not to stumble as I approach, quietly cursing whoever invented high-heels, and lean down over her shoulder so she can whisper in my ear.

“Okay, Kitten... first of all, that boy is all eyes on you~!” she chirps quietly, then adds, “Even as I watch him now, he's positively staring at your ass!”

“Mom!” I groan, trying not to raise my voice.

“Just like Mister Miyoto with his lovely Lydia~!”

I guess she saw that, too...

“Sorry, I thought you should know; he hasn't even glanced at either of your friends; even after I made every effort to turn them into eye candy,” she says, starting to giggle while I groan at not realizing that part of her ploy. After settling down, she pats my shoulder and continues, “Anyway, keep Yoko busy while I go make sure my surprise is waiting~!”

“Right,” I affirm, then roll my eyes and smirk as I inquire, “Is he still staring?”

“Totally captivated... if he's not addled by love, he's very daring~!”

I think it's probably both...

With a shared nod, she moves on around the corner, and I head back to rejoin the group. As I walk toward Hisao, I watch his eyes casually, trying to see the stare Mom mentioned. Not only are his eyes wholly focused on me, his entire body turns at my approach, which I'm surprised I never noticed before; I'm usually pretty good at noticing body language.

He really can't look away...

“What was that about?” Tadao asks as I grasp Hisao's hand.

Once our arms are entwined again, I answer Tadao's query with a reasonable lie, “She's checking to make sure our table is ready.” While I'm speaking, I turn a curious look at Yoko and smile warmly.

“You've been quiet,” I say, watching her shoulders tense a little.

“Oh, I'm just... observing...” she replies, casting her gaze downward.

“Hey, c'mere,” I request, holding out a hand, “Amaya, help me out,” I add, taking my other hand from Hisao and holding it toward her, then beckoning them both to approach.

“With what?” Yoko asks shyly.

“Strutting~!” Amaya chirps, and I nod in agreement.

“We should make an entrance!” I add, wrapping a hand around each of their shoulders, which is a little awkward with Yoko having such a height advantage; she probably has to duck when kissing Kenta—assuming they've kissed.

I only wonder because Yoko is so shy...

Amaya locks her arm around mine and adds, “Heads held high, shaking our stuff, and making all the guys turn and stare~!”

The prospect makes Yoko blush humbly and turn away, but she quickly steels herself and forces a smile. Wrapping her arm over Amaya's and giggling, she agrees,“Okay!”

Taking a few steps backwards, the three of us figure out a rhythm, then start walking forward slowly. The pain in my feet seems to fade as the excitement overtakes me, and the moment I see Mom's smiling face reemerge from around the corner, I start our march. Meanwhile, the boys stare at us with incredulous expressions, though neither is complaining. Falling in step behind us, Hisao and Tadao probably have the best view, or at least I can guess Hisao isn't complaining one bit; his likely focused gaze spurns me to add a healthy shake into my steps.

Foot-pain be damned...

Rounding the corner, I immediately catch sight of the odd, orange and green, Kanji and Italian sign over the restaurant door, but it's the figure facing away from us that makes me quicken my pace. Standing with his foot up against a cement barricade, Kenta apparently took the opportunity to get dressed up seriously. Cloaked head-to-toe in burgundy silk with a black leather belt, shiny black shoes, and a red-feathered black fedora atop his well-groomed head, he looks like a swing-era jazz musician. If her musical taste is any indication, Yoko will probably adore his outfit.

I wonder if he planned it that way...

Our giggling draws his attention, and he drops his foot down off the barricade as he turns, but the sarcastic confidence in his expression quickly turns into a stupefied smirk. Beside me, I hear a gasp, and Yoko's footwork falters, but she catches herself quickly and starts laughing. Meanwhile Amaya is no less surprised, but her gaze turns backward, probably toward Mom, and soon they've both let go of my shoulders. The typically timid redhead runs ahead with her arms out, apparently leaving her shyness behind with the shawl, and Kenta has to quickly snap out of his stupor before her excited embrace practically knocks him off his feet.

“Hello, Ginger-Snap!” he greets, catching her in a warm embrace.

Letting go for a quick moment, Yoko slaps his arm, then hugs him again and scolds, “Why didn't you call me?”

Catching up from behind, and sweeping the discarded shawl into her hand as she goes, Mom replies, “That's my fault, dear~! It's not much of a surprise if you tell them its coming~!”

Apparently all is forgiven, because Yoko quickly catches her stupefied suitor's lips with a passionate kiss. Her heels put the enamored red-head several centimeters over Kenta's lithe frame, and seeing him close his eyes as she cups her hands under his jaw to lift his chin makes me giggle giddily. Having never actually seen them kiss before, I'm left speechless by the sight, mostly because it seems so customary.

I didn't expect Yoko to seem so comfortable with public displays...

Just as Kenta's hands start moving, Hisao steps up from behind me, wraps an arm around my waist, and gently pulls me around to face the red-brick wall. Frowning, I turn an icy glare at him; things were just getting good. In response he raises an eyebrow and tilts his head slightly, the subtle motion making me realize I was probably being rude, so I give his hand a thankful squeeze. After a moment, his raised eyebrow furrows, and he narrows his eyes into a suspicious expression.

Replying to his unspoken question, I intone, “Not a word—they needed this.”

“No complaints, just curious...”

“This was Mom's plan; I just kept it secret.”

In response he kisses my forehead, which he doesn't have to duck to accomplish now that I'm artificially taller, then leans away and smiles pridefully. Turning his eyes back toward the conspicuous couple, he nods and I follow his gaze. Kenta is still dumbstruck, standing there with a ridiculous grin as Yoko cuddles against his side, pressing additional kisses against his cheek, but it seems their make-out session has cooled.

“Okay, enough with the reunion~!” Amaya balks in mock frustration.

I know she enjoyed watching that as much as I did...

With her hands clasped together, Mom steps over to the reunited pair, whispers something to Yoko, hands her shawl back, then turns to announce, “Alright~! Our tables are ready, so if you'll follow me~!” As we're following her inside, I notice the whole group is looking toward me, but I'm just as perplexed.

Tables...? Plural?

For now, since I'll find out soon enough, I'm trying not to worry about it too much, instead hanging onto Hisao's arm while taking a look around. The entrance hall is rather large with dark green carpeting, cherry-wood paneling, and there's a small, heavy bar along one end of the room. Dimly lit by wall-sconces, the high ceiling practically disappears in the fading light, but I can feel the rush of air from shadowed ceiling fans. Despite the downward breeze, I can still smell spiced meats and bread wafting through from the unseen kitchen. Overall, it feels more like a smoking club than a restaurant—minus the smoke—but if Uncle Enzo is running the place, I'm going to hold off on judgment.

I haven't seen the dining hall yet.

There are other patrons by the bar, most of whom ignore our passing as we walk through the room. The few who turn for a gander seem leery about a group of teenagers walking into their environment; I think we're a younger crowd than this place typically sees. Among the brief, wary glances, there's an older, gray-haired man in particular, wearing red-tinted spectacles and a cheap, green suit, who keeps staring at me creepily. The lascivious grin on the dirty old man's pock-marked face doesn't escape Hisao's notice, and he eyes the lecher warily as we pass.

The tightened grip Hisao offers is defensive, rather than rough, and I hide my eyes from the creepy man's gaze against my protector's shoulder. It's entirely possible I'm overreacting, or maybe even making a fool of myself, but that's a matter of opinion, and I'm of the school of thought that believes seeing me like this is a privilege; though that seems like a rare belief. Dressing like this definitely has upsides, but it clearly has its faults, and I'm glad Hisao is here to deflect potentially disturbing encounters with lecherous observers; I don't think I couldn't handle looks like that while alone.

Always bring Hisao Nakai: Creep-Be-Gone...

After he's out of sight, we come upon a younger, smiling man who I recognize. Enzo Gianni—Uncle Enzo—was a frequent visitor to the house when I was little, but he moved back to Italy when I was nine, and I haven't seen him since—I remember him seeming taller. Short by most male standards, Uncle Enzo stands beside the check-in desk in a fitted, red-trimmed, black suit and tie, leaning his elbow against the wall and stroking his thinly groomed goatee. At seeing Mom's approach, his dark brown eyes light up, and he bounds forward energetically, catching her greeting hand in both of his as he says something in Italian too quickly for me to understand, though I do catch a few words.

“-Aiko, no?” his eyes shift toward me, and I feel Hisao's grip tighten, but his is a familial expression, not a lecherous one. After giving Hisao a reassuring nudge with my shoulder, he eases off appropriately.

I like the rapport we're developing...

Trying to get the Italian phrasing right, I greet warmly, “Hi, Uncle Enzo~!”

“This can't be that little doe-eyed girl I once knew!?” he replies, turning a curious glance at Mom—and now speaking fluent Japanese.

I guess if you spend enough time around a language...

She just laughs and nods, which turns his lighthearted smile back toward me. After a moment, he takes a few quick steps across the room. As I let go of Hisao's arm, Uncle Enzo wraps me in a brief, fatherly hug, smiling broadly all the while, then leans back with his hands on my shoulders to examine my face. Up close, I notice gray streaks in his brown beard and along his temples, giving his short, tightly-bound ponytail a worldly appearance, while the deep laughter-lines make him look cheerful rather than elderly.

I think I'd be taller even without the shoes...

Reverting to Italian, and speaking slowly so I understand, he excitedly comments, “Such a beauty...! Still with your mother's eyes, and father's smile—I think you got the best of them, no?”

After placing a kiss on each of my cheeks, he takes a few strong steps back, assumes a stiff-lipped expression, and scrutinizes the young man on who's retaking my arm. The slight squint, casual tilt of his head, and breathless stare all remind me of Dad, which is probably appropriate; he was Mom's student, but he got along with her husband like best friends. All these years later, I'm surprised there isn't a ring on his finger; he always talked about finding someone to start a family with, but maybe his profession got in the way.

Slipping into Japanese, he tells Hisao, “You're a lucky man...! Unless you treat her wrong... in which case you'll look good at the bottom of a river!”

I'm sure he's joking... half-way at least...

“Enzo!” Mom scolds, snapping his attention around.

“Sorry, Miss Ina, I get carried away!” He apologizes, then turns back with a bright smile. “All of you follow me, please,” he requests, scanning around the group, “Your tables are waiting!”

As he beckons us to follow, Mom adds, “Remember, I'm covering the bills—don't be stingy~!”

There's that pluralization again... I think we've been duped...

Highlighted by a dark red carpet, rather than green, the dining hall consists of intimate, felt-padded booths arranged along the walls, and little round tables nestled among a forest of thick wooden beams. Atop each white-clothed table is a small candle in a glass jar, and a vase of small white flowers. Waist-high, darkly-stained barricades run between the beams, leaving the tables cloaked in some measure of privacy. The wall-sconces are slightly dimmer than in the entryway, which I assume is to add ambiance, and provides additional concealment for the patrons; a place away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

Everything about this restaurant reeks of intimacy and romance, further enhanced by a string quartet sitting in a dark corner, gently serenading the guests. Looking around at the filled tables and booths, I notice a lot of couples, rather than groups, which is a telling arrangement. Even among the regular tables, a stealthy couple could probably get away with all manner of romantic activities without anyone noticing. Many of the patrons, or at least the few I can see well enough to make a determination, seem to be enjoying each other thoroughly; sitting close, tittering happily, and acting as though they're the only two people in the room—it looks like fun.

I don't think Mom will let that happen, though...

As we're brought to separate booths along the same wall, each couple reacts differently to the prospect of dining in such an environment. As the newest couple, Yoko and Kenta appear apprehensive, and aren't even holding hands despite their impassioned display outside. Tadao and Amaya, the two-month veterans, seem wholly relaxed, following along in tandem, already absorbed into their own little world before they even reach the booth. Meanwhile, Hisao seems eager, though I'm not sure why exactly, and I still feel somewhat suspicious of Mom's motives, but, collectively, we appear comfortable.

Outwardly, at least...

With booth seats, none of us can see the other couples, and we're hidden from most of the rest of the patrons as well. Although the arrangement does come with a catch: Mom and Midori take up a table toward the middle of the room, in plain sight of all three couples; all she has to do is peek up over the barricade. Turning a curious glance at Mom as she's being seated, I notice the bright smile on her face, which seems to indicate she's here to observe, rather than chaperone, but I have my doubts. Undoubtedly her presence will make everyone wary, but she seems to enjoy living vicariously in this way, and I probably should have expected it was all a setup—for all six of us, not just the fledgling couple.

I still have things to learn about being crafty...

There are dark-stained, wooden-lattice barricades that rises up about two meters between each booth, each adorned with a garland of white flowers. The booth itself is narrow with a single, plush red bench up against the wall, and a small square table we have to step around. Hisao sits to my right, smiling all the while, and starts gnawing at some of the provided bread sticks while I'm settling onto the bench. Mostly, I'm trying to make sure my legs stay closed in the short dress, even though there's a long table-cloth I can hide behind. Once I'm situated, I place my little purse on the bench and turn a bewildered smile at Hisao.

Resting his elbow on the table, and placing his chin in his upraised hand, Hisao compliments, “I could watch you stand up and sit down all night.”

Nudging him with my elbow I coo, “Play your cards right, and you might get that chance later.”

With a quick shake of his head, probably to dislodge my suggestive comment, he sets down the bread stick and inquires, “So, I guess you get that look from your mom?”

“Which one?”

“That prideful, meddling look of yours... she's definitely the master, though,” he remarks, sending his eyes to glance around the room, “We both thought she meant to have us all sit together, and yet...”

“She's sitting right there, though,” I remind him as he's trailing off, while being careful not to look toward Mom.

“Ah, but she's behind that divider, and her chair is facing away... mostly,” he observes, smirking at my shrug, “I think she wanted to see us out alone together—which, I have to hand it to her... is probably a stroke of genius.”

“Never tell her that! You'll never live it down~!”

Laughing, he places his hand over mine and says, “I'm just glad you inherited that genius.”

“I thought you didn't like my meddling?”

“In moderation, it's adorable,” he quickly retorts, then quietly adds, “and keeps me guessing.”

“But you're always talking about a bear—saying that it shouldn't be poked?”

“Like I said; moderation,” he says with a chuckle, “You just need to hold back sometimes, is all.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Here I thought my crafty tendencies annoyed him, but it seems that's not quite the case. Apparently it's the frequency of my meddling that bothers him, not the meddling itself, or even the results. That shouldn't surprise me, though; he went along with my plan to help Amaya and Tadao get off the rocks, and merely advised caution when putting Yoko and Kenta together. It's probably a good thing it doesn't really bother him, because, if Mom's tendency to stick her nose in other people's business is any indication, I probably won't be able to stop myself sometimes.

It's good to know Hisao won't resent me for it...

Unlike The Beijing, table service at Olive Riso comes with the territory, and once we're seated, Uncle Enzo himself comes to take our order. That may be another way Mom is observing our date, but I'm glad to see him anyway. His frequent change in language serves to confuse Hisao, but it's mostly so he can secretly ask about my oblivious boyfriend, which lends credence to my suspicion that he's here on Mom's orders. It's a little underhanded, but Hisao doesn't notice since Uncle Enzo limits himself to simple yes or no questions, and I don't really mind answering; I enjoy talking about Hisao.

Satisfied that I'm not dating a sexual deviant, serial thief, or something worse, he finally asks what we would like to order. Knowing Uncle Enzo is a bit of a traditionalist, I defer to Hisao's judgment in selecting something for us both. While he's making a selection, I focus my attention on Mom. There she sits quietly, her eyes hovering just above the barricade as she reads over the menu, seemingly unaware of whatever we're doing. While it would be nice to believe such a lofty fantasy, I simply can't brush aside the feeling that she has some other motive for putting us in this situation; she still hasn't specified her approval.

After Uncle Enzo leaves, Hisao notices my repeated glances across the room, and I see his questioning look, but I'm too busy looking away to pay him any attention. That doesn't last very long, as he decides to take matters into his own hands—so to speak—by running one of his along my leg.

Surprised by his forwardness, I turn a look down at his hand as I ask, “What are you doing?”

“Testing your hypothesis,” he replies, nodding over my shoulder.

As I turn to follow his gesture, he starts gently rubbing along my thigh. It's disruptive, and I know he's trying to break my concentration, but I manage to keep my attention toward Mom, who continues looking away while talking to Midori. Neither of them seems even mildly interested in watching what we're doing, especially Midori who can't quite see over the half-wall, but I'm not convinced they aren't just pretending for my benefit.

Meanwhile, Hisao sidles up next to me and starts nuzzling against my neck, planting playful kisses. His loving lips, and the hand on my leg are starting to spread arousal across my body, and I even start giggling at his touch, but I'm still aware enough to realize this could be very bad. Even as she's looking away, I'm sure Mom is watching, and it's only a matter of time before she notices Hisao's advances.

“Is she looking?” he asks in a whisper, starting to gently push his hand further under my dress.

Squinting, I try to focus on her, but my vision gets a little blurred by his touch, so I take a guess and answer, “No...”

“Do you want her to?” he asks, and I feel his hand start to move again.

With his fingers wriggling against my bare skin, he slides his hand further inside my dress, and starts sweeping over my leg, toward my panties. The feeling of his warm hand inching closer, teasing along my inner thigh, and sending little jolts of pleasure, makes me smile weirdly and tense my legs in anticipation. Just when he's about to brush against his naughty destination, I realize what he's doing, where we are, who is here, and decide I have to stop him, even though I want him to keep going.

If not for Mom being here...

Dropping my hand down to catch his arm, I scold breathlessly, “No! What? Stop that...! She'll see!”

With a confident smile, Hisao withdraws his hand and lifts it up to caress my cheek. “Stop worrying so much,” he chides, sidling away so I can calm down, “she wouldn't bring us to a place like this if she didn't mean for us to have a nice time.”

“But-” I start and stop, then look toward Mom and continue, “With her here... don't go getting handsy...!”

“I know; it was just an experiment!” he assures me, and based on his apologetic tone, I believe him.

“It's just that she's right there!” I blurt, almost whimpering.

“Don't let it bother you,” he advises, reaching out and grasping my hand. “Your mom didn't even seem to mind,” he professes confidently. “Though I don't think she could quite see where my hand was going...” he adds, nodding toward her.

I can imagine her yelling at him to stay away from my happy valley...

“Besides, coming here and having us sit together was her idea. She probably wants you to have a good time, and not worry so much.” Lifting my hand up, he leaves a kiss on my wrist that turns me back around to inspect his expression. There's no pressure in his eyes, just the serene calm I've always found relaxing.

After my discussion with Mom earlier, I should probably take Hisao's advice and try not to worry. If she didn't approve of us being together, then she would have already made it known. Thus far, all the feedback I've gotten is positive; she actually liked that Hisao can't keep his eyes off me, which is still true as we sit in this nice, comfortable, private booth. Her presence probably won't completely leave my mind, but for Hisao's sake, and the sake of our nice evening out, I can relax and try to focus on having a good time.

I still wish she wasn't watching...

When the food arrives, I can't help but turn a wry smirk at my hopelessly romantic boyfriend. While I was focused elsewhere, he apparently ordered a single, large plate of spaghetti with fish sauce for us to share, along with two champagne flutes for sparkling ginger-ale, and he looks quite pleased with himself. Uncle Enzo delivers it with a bright smile and a careful nod, which I find comforting, and probably makes Hisao nervous, then disappears into the kitchen. Romanticism aside, sharing a plate of food is probably the best way to ensure my deplorable table manners go unnoticed, which I think may have been part of his intent; Hisao might actually think it's cute.

Either way it's a well-played card I should remember later...

Being a fusion restaurant, the thin, herbaceous sauce is reminiscent of something I'd expect on a Japanese fish dish, rather than Italian pasta, but I'm having too much fun feeding Hisao to care. With only one fork to share, we take turns spooling the messy spaghetti onto the utensil and directing the bite at whichever of us we feel like feeding, which ends up being Hisao most of the time. Eventually he starts aiming his bites toward me, which I'm happy to take, except that he's not particularly good at twirling the pasta.

Lifting a particularly messy fork full off the plate, he swings it through the air playfully, aiming it toward my open mouth. However, before he can get it there, the bundle collapses, and part of it falls down onto my chest. Setting down the fork, he remarks playfully, “Whoops! Total mishap, there...”

I don't believe a word of that...

Edging closer, he smirks and looks down as he adds, “My fault, I'll clean it up...”

Before I can protest, he dives into my cleavage, licking the sauce off my skin and kissing against the dropped pasta. As he's getting a mouthful, slurping with abandon, I start giggling and trying to back away, but he follows my every maneuver, even grasping my chest to hold it in place. With a bright blush streaking my face, I turn toward Mom to see if she's watching, but before I can get a good look, Hisao propels himself up and catches me with a deep kiss.

Totally unabashed, he wraps his hand around my back and starts flicking his tongue against mine, sharing some of the pasta he just ate off of me while chuckling lovingly. Our passionate display makes me feel positively unhinged, but as I remember Mom might be watching, I let out a little whimper. That causes him to back away, but not before leaving a kiss on my nose, and licking my chin.

“Got a little sauce on you—sorry about that,” he says, sounding mockingly apologetic as he hovers in front of me for a few seconds. Once he starts sidling away, still locking eyes with mine, I regain my senses and turn to see if Mom is watching. Not only is she looking our way, but she's grinning ear-to-ear, giving me a thumbs-up over the barricade, and practically cheering, which Midori is mirroring.

“See?” Hisao prompts, reaching over with a napkin to clean up the mess he left on my chest. “She's just here to observe,” he surmises, then absently adds, “and she's apparently having a good time of it...”
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The gentle rubbing makes me wince and bite my lip, as I'm still sensitive following our little interlude, but he makes quick work of the remaining sauce. Usually Hisao isn't quite so overt in his displays of affection, and I actually enjoyed having him attack me like that, but the specter of my mother being less than five meters away still makes me timid. When he's done cleaning off the remnants of his lustful mouth-work, he turns a coy look at me and reaches over to grasp my hand gently, which I pull away almost immediately.

“Sorry I stopped you,” I say quietly, apologetically, reaching over to take his hand back. While I'm sure he knows I'm only uncomfortable because of her presence, I don't want him to mistake my reluctance for discomfort.

I like this daring side he's showing, actually...

“It's definitely not you—I'd actually like if you did that more often~! It's just that-” I stop and turn a look over my shoulder before finishing, “Her being here still bothers me.”

“Oh, trust me, going into that I expected her to jump off her chair, dive over the wall, and attack me with that giant bag of hers!” he jokes, which I have to admit is more like what I expected as well. As he wraps his hand around my waist and leans against me, I feel my body relaxing even if my mind is still racing. Smiling at me wryly, he adds, “But... I think if she can handle seeing that—and apparently even liked seeing it... I think that means she's okay with us being together, don't you?”

In my mind, I still feel like this is an elaborate setup; as though at some point Mom is planning to clap her hands, call Uncle Enzo, and have Hisao dragged out into the street for a beating, but I realize that's completely irrational. Hisao's words carry a bit of truth, after all, and Mom has already gone back to talking with Midori, seemingly happy to let us have our fun. It doesn't make sense, but maybe all she wanted was to look him over carefully, and decide whether he seemed good enough for her daughter; like when I examined Tadao before setting him up with Amaya—even if it isn't true, it's a believable fantasy.

“Okay, let's- Um...” I trail off as my thoughts unscramble, then turn a thoughtful expression at him to suggest, “How about you agree to calm down a little...?”

“Difficult with you dressed like that,” he says, sending a longing look up and down my body. When his eyes meet mine again, he smiles and concedes, “But I can manage.”

Nodding carefully at his reply, I add, “And I'll promise to try and not shove you off just because I think she's watching?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he affirms, nodding in earnest as he pulls me tighter. His embrace warms me up and brings back the amorous feeling, but I don't think we should get carried away while in a public place—regardless of how private it feels—so I decide to tease him verbally, instead of physically.

“And I was serious,” I mention, leaning back so I can reach up and kiss his cheek, “I liked you being a little rough like that, and wouldn't object to you taking charge... just don't push it~!”

“So, you liked being attacked with slurpy kisses?”

“Yes,” I reply, then grin lustily to add, “Especially on my lips... all of them.”

Immediately understanding, he nods and affirms, “Noted, filed, and prepped for theoretical analysis.”

I love when he uses science lingo to talk dirty...

Letting out a breathy sigh, I reach for the fork and start twirling it into the pasta, picking up a giant bundle. Lifting it carefully, I hover it in front of his mouth and coo, “Better get your carbs... you might need them later~!”

“Oh? Planning some late-night exercise?” he asks coyly before I push the spaghetti into his mouth.

“Something like that...” I reply with a giggle, chasing the bite with a kiss.

I can't wait to burn off the calories...

The rest of the meal goes by with us sitting closely, feeding each other, and sharing a few gentle kisses in between bites; the rough stuff can wait until we're alone. Our conversation slips between totally rational topics, like how we did on finals, to giggle-inducing dirty discussions that leave us both blushing—I may have met my match where lewd thoughts are concerned. Every few minutes, I cast a glance toward Mom, and when she's actually looking, she's smiling, or nodding, or making other encouraging gestures; her enjoyment seems to have increased since I loosened up a bit.

The other patrons are probably less than thrilled with the two teenagers fawning over each other in the corner booth, even though they can't see us, but that's their problem. Most of them are older, and few of them seem to be having as much fun, so I think they're just jealous. From the outside, we're probably disgustingly adorable, or annoyingly cute, but I really don't care what anyone thinks anymore; it's my turn to be the cute girl with the handsome paramour, tittering in the corner and making a scene.

I'm glad Hisao convinced me to relax...

After a couple hours, which is a lofty guess based on absolutely nothing—my watch didn't match the dress—Mom makes her way over with a bright grin. “I don't mean to disturb you two, but it's getting about time we made our way out.”

“What time is it? It's not that late yet, is it?” I ask, checking my wrist for my missing watch and rolling my eyes.

“It's almost nine; about ten minutes of...” she says, checking her watch while yawning slightly. “But I'm still on Italy-time, Kitten... and I'll have to drive back to the hotel after dropping you off, so-”

“It's alright, Ina, we don't mind heading back now,” Hisao answers for me, drawing Mom's undivided attention, “We still have a half-day tomorrow, and curfew is ten o'clock... so, we should be heading back soon anyway.”

There's likely a hidden plan under his suggestion, especially considering his mention of curfew, and it's one she should see right through. However, Mom just smiles and nods, then affirms, “Alright, I admire your desire to follow school rules~!”

Really, Mom...? Really?

Before moving to the next pair, she leans down and whispers something in Hisao's ear, leaving him to swallow hard with wide eyes. She gestures toward me briefly, then turns back and says something else cryptically, which makes him nod hurriedly. Leaving a motherly kiss on his cheek, she walks away smirking at me, and I turn back to see Hisao turning a little pale.

“What'd she say?” I ask, but he just shakes his head and clears his throat.

“Nothing! Just... your mom is both awesome and frightening.”

His reaction still has me worried, but I can't help agreeing with his assessment. “Yes, that she is,” I remark absently, “I'm still figuring her out after eighteen years...”

“Just so we're clear; If you turn into your mom, I would actually not mind that,” he says, then immediately starts stuttering, “U-um, I mean... not physically... w-well-” he stops and leans out of the booth for a quick look at her, then shakes his head and blinks. "She's- I- um... if you act like-"

“I meant what you knew,” I say, placing a calming hand over his. “She looked like me twenty years ago,” I add, turning to have a quick look at her swaying steps. “I'm sure I could do a lot worse.”

I definitely won't look that good at thirty-nine, though...

That thought leaves a frown on my face as I look back at him, which he notices, but doesn't understand. Like earlier, I run a hand along his arm, then shake my head and shrug, which seems to placate him. For the second time in as many days, I saw my future in looking at Mom, but not the pleasant, vibrant, crafty woman who raised me. Instead there's a shivering, decrepit, shell of a woman lying in a white room on her deathbed, devoid of all hope, and slowly slipping into madness. It's an image I see in my nightmares, and rarely haunts me elsewhere, but Mom's presence sometimes serves as a terrible reminder of my grim future.

Pushing the dark thoughts out of mind, I concentrate on standing up and taking Hisao's arm, then start us walking toward the exit. Needing his support to help push aside the horrible visions, I lean against him heavily, which he probably takes as affection; it's a fair interpretation. My dopey, geeky, wonderful Hisao has acted like a dream-catcher for the past month and more, his mere presence acting as a barrier between me and my awful fate; he makes me feel like my tomorrows aren't just a series of cruel lies, as though I have plenty of good ones left.

I haven't had a nightmare since before the beach weekend...

Outside, the darkened streets are bathed in lamplight, and the whole neighborhood seems to be out enjoying the evening, apparently holding some kind of block party. There's a small string band set up on the sidewalk playing folk tunes, people milling about and talking, or dancing with the music, and there are kids running around with sparklers. According to Uncle Enzo, it's a birthday celebration for a local elder, but unfortunately we don't have time to hang around and enjoy the little festival. That doesn't stop Midori from bouncing giddily and pointing things out to Mom, who mostly just smiles and nods lazily; it's not much different from her reaction to Amaya's babbling.

I think she's more accustomed to tuning Midori out, though...

Apparently everyone is enjoying the little festival, so there probably won't be any curious looks coming from the darkened windows above, and that's quite a relief for me. Despite how close we were in that booth, and how private it felt, the anxiety brought on by thinking that someone might walk by, see us in the throes of a passionate kiss, or catch Hisao with his hand up my dress, leaves me feeling somewhat exhausted. All I want after that is to spend some time alone with my boyfriend, completely away from prying eyes, and preferably in a familiar environment; like his dorm room.

I imagine he's having similar thoughts...

As we clear the festivities and walk back down along the narrow side-streets, I get curious about the other two couples. Ahead of Hisao and me, Amaya and Tadao are being their typically affectionate selves. Unabashed, Tadao has his hand gripping tightly against her waist, and I'm almost certain he's using his high angle to hide the longing stare he's casting at her garment-enhanced cleavage.

Not to be outdone, Amaya has a hand on his waist, and keeps gently slapping his behind as one might urge a horse, though there doesn't seem to be any reason for her love taps, aside from the stimulation. If not for the darkened alleyways we're walking through, I doubt they'd be quite so obvious in their affectionate hand-play, but the cover of night affords them some leeway, especially considering we're their only audience.

I almost think they're doing it to goad us into copying their behavior...

The caboose now consists of our red-dressed couple, whose initial apprehension made me wonder whether they would have much of a good time. However, they're leaning against each other heavily as they walk, seemingly in total comfort. Yoko walks along with a dreamy expression on her face, resting her head against Kenta's, wearing his fedora, and holding the shawl over her elbows while both her arms wrap around his chest.

Meanwhile, Kenta strolls alongside with a matching grin, his head on her shoulder, and a hand down around her back, seemingly against her rear. Casting careful glances over my shoulder, it's difficult to tell what he's doing, but Yoko isn't complaining, even though I think his hand is inside her dress. That makes me wonder how far their relationship has actually gone, but Yoko is pretty cautious about saying anything, and Kenta doesn't kiss and tell.

I should investigate... some other time...

Walking at a contemplative pace with Midori at her side, Mom leads us through the narrow, lamp-lit streets, absently twirling the rental key on her finger. Apparently, Kenta's dad called sometime during the evening, or so she says. Regardless of who made the call, she convinced Ikaru to let his son spend one last night in the dorms, which Kenta needed no convincing to agree with. The only problem is that we have to fit another person in the minivan, but Midori takes the front seat gleefully, giving up her rear view for the red couple, while the rest of us assume the same seats we had on the way here.

The drive back to the school is dominated by whispering conversations filled with lewd innuendo and giggling. In the darkness of the back seat, Hisao gets bold and places a hand inside my cleavage, claiming to enjoy the warmth. In response, I rest my hand over his crotch, making the same claim. Even though I'm not even moving my hand, his immediate arousal leads to a swift removal of his bow tie, and he shrugs off the suit-coat to rest it over his lap, hiding my efforts. Deciding to add to his agony, I start gently rubbing over his groin, but I keep my teasing to a minimum.

Mom might approve of Hisao, but, with Midori right there in the front seat, I doubt she'd be happy if we started getting amorous while she's driving. Instead of taking us all the way to the car park, she stops to let us out at the gate, though by this point I'm not even wearing the shoes anymore, so I don't care about the shorter walk. Once everyone is out of the car, the other two couples start heading toward the dorms—to destinations unknown—while Mom beckons me over to the driver's side window. Hisao raises an eyebrow, but nods as I walk around to find out what she wants.

I'm trying to keep the dread off my face...

Once I'm close enough, she whispers, “Okay, Kitten, keep your voice down,” then nods over her shoulder toward my sleeping sister.

“What's up?” I whisper, leaning against the door.

“First: I'm proud of you,” she says, reaching up to touch my cheek, then explains, “You kept your composure, fended off his advances, and let him get away with some devilish deeds~!” If not for the sincerity in her tone, the broad grin, and her light chuckling, I would think she's being sarcastic.

I'm still getting used to this side of her personality...

“You found one of the good ones~!” she adds, leaning away to reach into her purse. After a quick glance toward Midori, she turns back and leans closely, holding up her closed hand. Taking a deep breath, she continues, “Thing is, you gotta make an effort to keep the good ones, so,” she pauses and settles a deadly serious look on me, “you should take care of him.”

The meaning behind her suggestion takes a second to dawn on me, but her serious expression stops me from overreacting. “You mean-”

“Yes, that,” she says with a careful nod, pressing the contents of her hand into mine, “That boy loves you, deeply, I can see it in his eyes—trust me, I've seen it before. It's the same look your father had for me, and it took me far too long to realize it... I want you to understand it's a rare thing—something to be cherished... and nurtured.”

“You're basically telling me to-”

“Jump him, bone him, give him a ride, get his rocks off, whatever euphemism you want~!” she advises coarsely, nodding toward the small box of condoms she pressed into my hand. “Don't try denying you weren't already planning to, either—a mother knows!” she says firmly, then cheerfully adds, “Plus, I'm not blind, Aiko Marina Kurai... I saw what you were doing back there~!”

“Mom!” I groan, rolling my eyes.

“Just as long as Midi doesn't see, I don't mind you getting frisky in the backseat,” she explains, pointing over her shoulder, “just know my patience has limits—nothing beyond petting in the car.”

Nodding grimly, I hold up the box and ask, “What should I do with these?”

“I hope I don't have to explain that, Kitten...!”

Tossing my head back in disdain, I groan, “I mean before that!”

“I know! I'm just- Anyway, here... take a couple out of the box,” she says, pulling it open and removing a couple packages, “and put the rest in your purse,” she advises. “Now, press those two between... well, into your womanly wallet!” she says, pointing at my cleavage. As I follow her instructions, she nods and even giggles when I nearly lose one and have to chase it down to the dress.

Aiko Kurai: master seductress...

“You should make use of that cavernous valley, as Amaya described it,” she adds, smirking at her own vulgarity, “you could probably smuggle all kinds of contraband in here, Kitten~!”

Once the packages are safely hidden, I roll my eyes and shrug. “This feels weird.”

“Handy, though, isn't it?” she muses, then reaches up to pull me into a quick one-armed hug. “Be safe, have fun, and don't feel ashamed—he's worth the effort, and you can reap the rewards~!”

Few things Mom ever told me have sounded so completely uncharacteristic of her, but the bold confidence in her erotic suggestion leads me to strongly consider following her advice; not that it wasn't already part of my plan. After all my internal arguing and worry, apparently all it took was seeing his look to gain her approval. Almost since we met, Hisao has looked at me with that same calm stare; as though merely looking at me settles his mind, which is really the same reaction I have seeing him. Spending so much time watching other couples, I guess I never really looked for it in my own relationship.

Maybe it was love all along...

Standing beside him as I watch the tail-lights dip down behind the hill, I almost feel like I could toss him down in the grass and have my way with him this instant, but I should probably try to act a little more coy. His touch on my arm is electric, and when his hand gently brushes against my breast, I almost abandon my self-control. However, I manage to quell my desire by biting my lip, hard, and focusing my gaze upward as we start to walk toward the gate.

“It's a beautiful night,” he remarks, apparently noticing my skyward stare. “I'm pretty sure Cancer is still hidden, though,” he adds, and I turn a curious look toward him.

“What?”

“Your constellation... it's hard to see until September.”

My questioning look remains for a few moments, until I realize what he's talking about. “Oh, right~!” I lilt, trying to sound cute, “No, I was just... looking up in general... it was hard to see in the city, but up here it's so clear, y'know? You can see the stars without them fading behind the street lights.”

“But all you ever see of stars are their old photographs,” he says, which sounds eerily familiar.

I can't quite place it, though...

With a light shrug, I turn back up to try and focus on the distant, glittering, heavenly bodies, instead of the warm, handsome one holding my arm. The pace he's setting is slow, which I think is because he wants the evening to last a while longer—I certainly understand that sentiment. While he starts pointing out various constellations, I try to focus on the stars, but they're hard to see through the tree branches, and I have trouble paying them any attention because, at this moment, they don't hold a candle to the sight of Hisao.

The moonlight and dim lamplight really bring out his strong, chiseled features, and his eyes have become dark pools, filled with mystery and wonderment, accented by starry reflections. As he continues explaining about cosmology, I realize he could be talking about anything in that rich baritone and I'd listen just to feel its vibrations. His arm wrapped around mine feels sturdy, and I feel protected by his embrace, despite being in a wholly safe environment.

Well, it's safer than most places...

Trying to maintain an air of interest in his rambling, I keep focusing on his strong jawline, and I start to feel that hazy sensation growing within me. That deeply illogical feeling of wanting has been building since I laid eyes on him, before he even got into the minivan. Mom's advice snapped it back to the surface, and I still have control over myself, but I can feel that slipping with each word he says. A random thought crosses my addled mind, and I decide to take over our direction so I can seek out a place to get him alone.

I don't think I can wait until we're in the dorms...

With a subtle shift of my arm, I get him to slide his hand down around my waist, and I send mine around his back. Slowly, I lower my hand down until it's grasping his toned behind, which causes him to pause his diatribe for a moment, but quickly cough and continue. Using my hand like a rudder, I start shifting his direction and quickening our pace toward a familiar place where we can find some amount of privacy; a spot I know will be quiet, won't be patrolled, and where I'll feel safe collecting empirical data.

If he notices my gentle shift in direction, he isn't mentioning it as he continues talking about various stars. Meanwhile, I take us off the walkway to cut across the manicured lawn, headed toward the auxiliary building. When we step back up on the cement path out in front of the pool-building entrance, he turns a curious look at me, but I'm keeping our destination—and my intentions—a secret for a little while longer, or at least I'm not confirming anything.

I can't believe I'm doing this...

There's a moment as we start along the path leading behind the building when he turns a wide-eyed stare at me and swallows hard, but I remain silent, biding my time. Considering the boldness he displayed during dinner, I doubt he'll really object to a little outdoor interlude, but I want to add my sensual touch to the equation before propositioning him out in the night air, and I can't bring myself to do that in a heavily trafficked area of the school grounds.

The spot behind the pool building is secluded, unwatched, and only visible from the distant woods, so there isn't much chance of being seen or heard, much less caught, but the threat of being discovered should make this an enlightening experience. Once we reach the corner, I stop him with a gentle tug, pull him around to face me, and stand on my toes to meet his lips with a hungry kiss. The loving stare, prodding hands, and caressing lips he kept focused on me all night are about to get rewarded, and there's a tinge of fear in his shaky reaction, but I think that has more to do with the location than my intentions.

Apparently he's quick to get over his fear because, unlike our first encounter, or the following experiences, there's nothing timid about his hands. My tight-fitting dress doesn't give him many options, but he finds the window quite handy—so to speak. Sliding one hand inside, and making me giggle as he feels around, he finds my covered nipple and furrows his brow for a moment. However, he quickly figures out the problem and starts pawing at the edge of the thin silicone pasty, making me wince as he peels it away from my sensitive nipple.

Sending the pad falling to the ground, he grins triumphantly and reaches back inside to continue my stimulation. My nipple is already stiff, as always, and his probing fingers feel positively electric, but I have to keep from losing myself in his touch because I intend to make sure he's being pleased. So, while he's exciting my senses, I send my hands down to unzip his pants, which surprises him more than a little. My action causes him to breaks the kiss, to which I frown and set a raised eyebrow on his strange expression; there's a lustful smile there, but it's accompanied by shocked eyes.

“Nervous?” I ask coyly, running my hand along his sternum.

“You realize we're outside, right?”

Letting out a sultry chuckle, I send my other hand to grasp the bulge in his boxers, and squeeze myself against him as I coo, “He doesn't seem to mind.”

“You're dangerous,” he retorts, starting to back away with my gentle nudging.

“You love it and you know it~!” I reply, accepting his slow nod as an assent.

Using my fingers to knead his soft parts as I'm pushing him along the wall, out of sight, I delight in the beads of sweat forming on his brow, and the hazy, unfocused look in his eyes. “Nobody ever comes back here... I think you and I can change that, though.”

My obvious double-entendre makes him smirk, and I can see him starting to relax as my continued prodding makes him forget we're exposed. The fire escape over his head catches his eyes, and he tosses the suit-coat up over the lowest ladder rung, then smiles hazily and returns his attention to my ministrations.

“Endless surprises...” he mumbles, the rest of his statement lost in a breathy exhale.

While he's reasonably addled, I turn him so his back is to the wall, then gently shove him against it and start pulling back the flap in his boxers—it's quite a handy design. Once I've extracted his swelling staff and start stroking it gently, he gives up all protests and relaxes against the cold bricks, muttering something about letting me do whatever I want.

I want to take care of my man...

That thought, Mom's suggestion, makes me remember my first clumsy experience at pleasing him orally, and I feel ready—determined—to make another attempt. Not wanting to rest my knees on the gritty asphalt, and potentially ruin the new stockings, I crouch instead of kneeling, and get him to wrap his shins around my knees for stability, then reach my hands around his legs, counting on him to stay standing so I can keep my balance. The position places my mouth right in front of my objective, and I immediately start licking its tip, getting myself used to the saltiness before taking the plunge.

That comes swiftly and lovingly. Using my tongue as a guide, I pull him into my mouth, all the while listening for his reactions. The heat actually hits me more than the taste this time, but that may be due to the lowered evening temperature. Whatever the case, my gentle suckling and wriggling tongue elicit the desired response: heavy breathing, and subtle stifled groans. After holding him inside for a few moments, I start gently slurping, pulling back until he's almost extracted completely, then diving forward again, all the while delighting in his happy grunts.

Recalling some details from my previous foray into fellatio, I start humming absently as I slurp, and this time I keep my hands away from myself. The extra stimulation caused my novice failure, and, besides, my hands are holding me up, and I've started using them to accent my bobbing, allowing me to start pulling him in deeper than I was willing to go before. With the shock of the experience passed, I start to see it almost as a game, and it's one I'm well-prepared to excel at after years of practicing breath techniques.

Breathe, slurp, slurp, slurp... breathe, slurp, slurp, slurp...

As I establish my rhythm, I start breathing entirely through my nose, which allows me to relax my throat, and I manage to control my gag reflex. If his repeated mumbling of my name is any indication, he seems to appreciate the depth of my mouth-hug thoroughly, but I'm too focused on maintaining my breathing to observe his facial expressions. Listening to his breathy gasps and groans has a sympathetic effect on my body, causing my arousal to heighten even without direct stimulation. Soon his hands come into play, resting on my shoulders, gently urging my strokes to quicken, and I surmise he's getting close to finishing.

This is about where I faltered last time, but now I'm in control, and I decide to push onward to see just how well I can predict his orgasm. While his breaths start becoming more shallow and urgent, I start to move faster, suck deeper, and slurp harder. Eliciting a steady stream of groans, my continued deep-throating starts making his whole body tense and flex, and his hands on my shoulders tighten their grip. Meanwhile I can feel his racing pulse in my mouth, and he starts to curl downward, which is my signal to stop; I have my own needs to fulfill, and I'm sure Hisao will appreciate what I have in mind.

I may have to convince him, though...

Releasing him with a loud popping sound, I pull back and marvel at his glistening erection, standing almost completely vertical and twitching. Practically glowing red in the moonlight, it's probably only a few seconds away from reaching its breaking point; I stopped just in time. He makes an attempt to finish manually, but I catch both his hands as I stand, instead lifting them up to my chest while shaking my head in silent protest. When I ended my last oral escapade, it was an accident, and I wondered at Hisao's gentle reaction, but this time it's entirely intentional, and he's staring at me with a narrowed expression, apparently unhappy with my early extraction.

“Why'd you stop?” he asks urgently, his flushed face wrinkled into a frustrated glower.

Instead of voicing my answer, I smile lasciviously and start tugging the hem of my dress upward, but he still looks confused. Apparently his brain is missing some of its blood supply, so I smile lovingly and reply, “You don't want to skip the best part, do you?”

Meeting his lips in a deep kiss, I keep myself clear of his throbbing erection, not wanting any unintentional rubbing to cause a premature overload. While I'm gently nibbling around his lips, I pull his hands around to my behind, and hum demurely as he begins running them down over the curve, then starts lifting the dress upward. There's a lightly-calloused, rough quality to his hands, which is probably a contributing factor in their ability to send waves of pleasure along my spine, but also makes me feel cared for, somehow. It doesn't really make sense, but I just love having his hands on me, especially now that I'm wholly aroused.

When he gets the dress up high enough, I feel him hooking a thumb into my panties, but that's not part of my plan. Stopping him by catching his hand in mine, I break the kiss and lean back, “Careful~! We need you to cool down a little before the main event.”

“We do?” he balks.

“We do,” I echo, pulling his hands back around to my chest before explaining, “Believe me, I'd like nothing better right now than to feel you inside me... but you're too close to finishing... and I have my needs.”

“Gotcha,” he replies, nodding firmly and managing a smile. “If we can't both enjoy it, the data is no good.”

“True... but don't assume I wasn't enjoying myself,” I remark demurely, leaning up to kiss his chin. “I stopped because there's only so much you can handle,” I explain as I'm lightly tapping my finger over his heart, which makes him nod and shrug, conceding the point. “I wanted to get some practice in is all... it was worth seeing the look on your face, and next time I might keep going,” I add, grinning devilishly.

“I don't think you need practice,” he compliments, which I'm not sure is accurate, but makes me smile anyway.

I did just stop right at the edge of his climax...

With the cool night breeze and our brief separation, I start to notice his breathing has returned to normal, and I look down to see his erection has softened slightly, which is enough indication for me to start on phase two. Reaching down, I unbutton his pants and let them fall around his knees, then push his boxers down similarly, smirking as he comes springing back up as soon as the waistband clears.

“I guess we're done cooling down,” he remarks, stating the obvious.

“Stay there, don't move,” I command, taking a step back to briefly admire my handiwork—or mouth-work, rather. “Well, parts of you can move, but stay against the wall~!” I add, grinning devilishly as I turn to face away from him. Looking back over my shoulder, I reach down and start slowly lifting the dress up around my waist, exposing the garter and panties, and practically making his eyes pop out of his head.

With the dress being so tight, and knowing that if I remove it I'll lose the condoms, I decide to leave it on, though I'll miss the sensation of his strong hands on my naked chest. It's a small price to pay for the eager expression my display has planted on his face. Playfully, I start tracing my hands across my hips and start swaying them slightly, trying to imitate Yoko's dance a little. His lusty gaze is wholly focused on my lace-framed presentation once again, which I know he has a soft spot for—or a hard one, rather.

Though I've never exactly asked, I know he's a little obsessed with my plump rear, and I'm willing to indulge his fantasy. Enticed by his welcome stare, as much as my own urges, I push my panties down and start backing up slowly, continuing to sway with unheard music and giggle playfully. Reaching back to catch his erection and aim it upward, I settle against it and press hard against him, which feels a little weird, but he seems to enjoy.

“Well, that's an awesome new feeling,” he whispers, a slight strain in his voice.

After a few seconds, I start sliding myself up and down, feeling his pulse against my skin as I stroke him gently. The direct, hot contact deepens my arousal, and elicits some excited gasps from Hisao, especially when I start bouncing against him, which feels surprisingly good for me. His warm, soft balls impact against my aroused, naked lips with each playful gyration, and I have an urge to reach back and pull him inside, but I still have control over myself.

I wasn't expecting it to feel this good...

While I'm toying with him, his hands wrap around to caress my chest, which isn't part of my plan, but comes as a welcome diversion. He reaches one hand inside to hastily remove the other pasty, then sends both hands tracing under the fabric until he finds my waiting nipples and starts teasing them with his eager fingers. The excited rubbing adds to my arousal, causing me to moan softly and push me closer to abandoning the rational desire for protection.

I just started taking the pill today... I can't...

“How come... I never know what to expect from you?” he inquires lucidly, which snaps me out of the loosening inhibitions and gives me back some resolve. Squeezing tightly against him, I stop my bouncing to let my body calm before countering his query.

“Aren't you glad... I stopped before you finished?”

“Yes...!” he groans, sucking in a breath, “What's your plan here?”

His question catches me off-guard, but think I know what he means, and I formulate a quick reply, “One of them is exit only—no funny business.”

“Noted,” he says with another gasp as I start rubbing against him again.

Reaching back, I start tracing a finger around his pulsing tip, which makes him suck in a breath and go completely silent. Despite the brevity of his reply, I have every confidence he understood my meaning: I'm doing this because he's infatuated with my toned, round behind, and I want to fulfill some of his fantasies, but that doesn't include an invitation to explore my other orifice.

I have my limits.

“How's it feel?” I ask, feeling curious about how he'll answer more than anything else.

“Is there a word... for the best thing ever?”

“That's yet to come,” I reply, giggling devilishly.

“Whenever you're... ready...”
________________________________________________________
Previous|Part 1|Part 3|Next Chapter

Previous|Part 1|Part 2|Next Chapter
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With him—and myself, really—thoroughly excited by my gyrations, I lean away and reach back to push him down through the gap between my legs, then rest against his chest and smile at his stifled groans. With the whole area slickened by my amorous moisture, his hardened appendage slides through easily, emerging in front and pressing stiffly upward. As my tingling folds part, and kiss against his shaft, allowing me to feel his quickening pulse, I realize keeping my composure just became very important.

One quick, lustful motion, and he would be penetrating me while unprotected, but I have a plan; one that seemed easier to accomplish when I had a clear head. Still, while he sighs contentedly, continuing to knead my breasts, and places kisses against the side of my neck, I reach between his hands and extract one of the condoms from within my cleavage. Pulling the foil open swiftly, I delicately extract the condom, toss the wrapper away and, despite being unable to see past my arching, heaving chest, I turn my gaze downward.

Holding him in place with my legs, I find the tip blindly, and place the latex tube over it, then start rolling it in place, wincing as it slides across my engorged opening. While I'm there, I brush a finger over my slippery folds, and my back arches reflexively at the sensation, leading me to realize I'm completely ready, but I'm doing this to fulfill his fantasy.

I have just one more enticing maneuver to perform...

“Smooth,” he whispers in my ear, and I smile at my praised ingenuity.

“Bumpy, stiff, and hot,” I clarify, extracting my hand, “but that's how I like it~!”

I really may be insatiable...

For a few seconds, I frown as he withdraws his hands from my chest, but my grin returns when they grip around my hips. Throatily, I coo, “Are you ready for some more empirical data?”

Before he can answer, I step away to break the contact and turn to face the wall, quickly leaning against the bricks next to him and arching my back to push my rear up, assuming an erotic position. “I think you can figure it out from here,” I tease, nodding over my shoulder, and starting to shake my hips enticingly.

Taking my hint, he steps around behind me, running his hand along the small of my back as he goes. Straining to turn and watch him, I expect he'll step right up and position himself for a fast entry, but there's a curious look in his eyes. Instead he decides to grasp my hips and slide his hands slowly inward, moving his thumbs until they're inhabiting the gap between my legs. His gentle pressing urges my legs apart, and he sends his fingers to caress along my folds, then grips my thigh with one hand before darting two fingers inside. The suddenness makes me lurch forward and gasp, flatten my upper body against the wall, and whimper as my muscles tense beyond my control, caught in sudden ecstatic impulses.

I wasn't expecting him to have this much self control...

During our Wednesday session, I made a point of demonstrating some of my manual techniques, and apparently he remembered the lessons. Despite his raging erection, he's apparently content to tease me, slipping his fingers in and out a few times, then extracting them completely, running them around the outer folds, and finally reinserting them as far as they'll go, all the while smirking at my tight-lipped panting. As he's repeating this process over and over, I feel a cascade of euphoria overtake me, but it's not enough to push me toward a climax, and I start to get frustrated. Wanting more, desiring his touch, and needing release, I start to mumble incoherently between breathy gasps.

I may have taught him too well...

“Stop toying and-” I stop and moan loudly, feeling him quicken his fingering. “I... need more,” I whisper breathlessly, “Please~!”

“More what?” he asks devilishly, extracting his fingers again.

He knows damn well what...!

While he starts moving his evil digits in a circular pattern, spreading my tingling lower lips and causing another loud moan to escape my throat, I realize there's a method to his madness. Most of the teasing thus far has been done by me, and he endured it pleasantly, but now that he has me up against a wall, it's finally his turn to watch me squirm. The weird thing is that I'm enjoying it completely, and I would probably like to spend a whole night being teased like this sometime. However, in this instant, after the evening we've had, and feeling as amorous as I do, it just isn't enough. My nerves are already tingling, and I feel hot all over, but his careful stimulation is keeping me just below the line, and I can't take it anymore—I need release.

“Just fuck me, dammit!” I demand, surprised by my own vulgarity.

“Oh, that... why didn't you just say so?” he teases, apparently already in position.

I didn't even notice him-

My thought shatters as he grabs my hips and thrusts inside sharply, sending a wave of ecstasy that nearly pushes me into an immediate climax. Unlike our previous, exploratory encounters, Hisao doesn't hold anything back; driving in all the way to the hilt, filling me with his heat, then drawing out almost completely before plunging inside again, all in quick succession. Whether or not anyone can hear me exhale sharply with each thrust doesn't seem to matter as I don't think I could stifle myself if I tried, and I'm suddenly very glad we didn't go back to the dorms where my unhinged moaning would have been immediately obvious to the entire building.

Whether it's the result of my teasing, the location, the position, or some unspoken fantasy, something brought out Hisao's passion, and turned my humble paramour into an aggressive lover; I'm absolutely delighted by the results. The cause doesn't seem to matter as he's holding onto my hips, grunting wildly, like a madman, and drilling my insides with reckless abandon. His rhythmic piston continues driving me toward the climax I desired, and as his motions start to quicken, I feel my muscles tense, my knees lock, and I bite my lip in an attempt to stifle the impending cry of ecstasy. A sudden, hard slap on my behind sends a shock-wave of lustful pleasure over my body, and an appreciative groan out from my throat.

Where was this before...!?

That question doesn't seem to matter as that slap pushed me right over the edge. After another few steady pumps, with my nerves pushed to their limits, my whole body feels like it's on fire, and I reach my apex. My abdomen flexes, my head tosses backwards, and I start shuddering against the wall. My inner walls contract, squeezing him tighter each time he plunges inside, and I expect him to reach his climax any second. However, he isn't even close to finished.

While I'm flexing and moaning passionately, his breathing remains urgent, but stays even, and his thrusting continues unabated. It feels like he's pumping faster, even, and it's turning my single orgasmic tremor into an ecstatic earthquake. The euphoric waves, each one building on the last, cause me to arch my back involuntarily, and press my shoulders against his chest as a string of incoherent babble escapes my quivering lips. Suspended against him, I moan delightfully and reach down to run my hand along my waist, then back further until I find his bare hip, slick with sweat.

My light touch inspires him to slap me a second time, sending another sharp moan from my throat, and causing me to fall forward to lean heavily against the wall with another ecstatic release. As my eyes slam shut, and my breaths start becoming more shallow, he continues driving into me, and I'm left feeling completely out of control, shaking with giddy, blissful laughter. Somehow he is still back there, plunging my depths in earnest, and I'm swiftly nearing a third apex; it seems each successive peak arrives sooner than the last.

This time I predict the teasing slap, but it's no less effective; it sends me lurching forward and forces another unrestrained call of ecstasy from my lips. My voice practically sings with the sweet release as endorphins flood my blood-stream again, resulting in near-constant tremors, and sending my hips to begin swaying as the muscles holding me up start to reach a breaking point. When I regain my senses enough, I look back and see Hisao's urgent expression, but, even though I want nothing more than for him to join me in ecstatic bliss, he's still holding back; it's time I take matters into my own hands.

Or mouth...

Given that he seems determined to prevent that from happening, I decide to force myself out of his reach. Managing to extract him by quickly lurching forward, I feel the tension in my legs break, and I start slipping down to rest on my knees. Weak from the tense exertion, and still feeling delightfully orgasmic, I spin around, probably ruining my stockings, and find his throbbing erection with my hand. Pulling away the latex sheath, I start stroking him roughly, staring up at his seemingly pained expression.

I want his agony to be over...

After a few moments, I lean forward to press my lips against his glans and start running my tongue around the tip in circles, having every intention of making him climax in my mouth—if only to try it just this once. Considering the work he put into my Earth-shattering experience, I feel obliged to help him find release, and while I could do that manually, I'm feeling euphoric enough that I probably won't find it bothersome.

I might even enjoy it...

As his eruption begins, accompanied by a loud, guttural groan, I recoil a little, surprised by the suddenness, but I feel determined to prolong his ecstasy as much as I can. Strangely, I find the unusual, salty-sweet taste isn't repulsive, though I'm a little overwhelmed by the volume; some of it escapes, and dribbles down my chin. My gentle suckling seems to heighten his orgasm, leading him to shake harder, which inspires me to be bold. While continuing to thrash my tongue along its underside, I suck him in deeply, and start to swallow constantly as each subtle twitch sends more of the sticky liquid down my throat.

The feeling doesn't repulse me, and isn't exactly pleasant, but caressing him lovingly inside my warm mouth makes his groans louder, and seems to heighten his ecstasy, which makes me feel happy despite the awkwardness. Drawing back after he stops spurting, I suckle against his twitching glans, and flick my tongue against the tip some more, which gives him a few more orgasmic tremors before the tension in his knees breaks. Soon he collapses to sit on his knees in front of me, then practically falls forward to rest his head on my shoulder, his chest heaving with exhausted breaths.

Kneeling as I am, half naked on the gritty asphalt, rasping and still shaking with wonderful euphoria, I feel wholly satisfied. Between gasps I let out some gleeful laughs and hug him tightly, unable to express my gratitude verbally after his powerful ramming; I reached three climaxes, not counting the little ones in between. While I may not have understood in my addled state, his careful teasing beforehand brought me right to the edge, which I now realize was his intention; he sent me into orgasms practically from his first thrust, and I'm still feeling the aftershocks.

Naturally talented, indeed...

Feeling exhausted, I don't quite know how to deal with his lumbering form, so I lean back and let him settle against my chest, which functions as a decent pillow. As he lies there, breathing heavily, I listen to make sure he isn't in distress, but I think if he were to have a problem it would have been while he was still between my legs, or especially in my mouth. The fatigue hits me after a short while, once I've decided he'll be alright, and I end up resting my head down on his shoulder.

Holding each other as we recover from what I'd describe as an incredibly intense, mind-boggling encounter, we're eerily quiet for a few long minutes, but I feel wholly comfortable with that result; it's a happy kind of exhaustion, and the silence seems appropriate. When he regains enough strength to lean back, I turn a tired, contented expression at him, but I'm met with a horrified stare.

“Aiko...! I'm sorry! I didn't mean-”

Diving forward, I shut him up with a kiss, and steal his breath by tracing my hand over his softening tool. The touch makes him gasp, but I'm just petting it in gratitude. After breaking the kiss, I lean back and coo, “Don't apologize; that was wonderful~!” I punctuate my statement by giving him a slight tug, “Seriously, if it results in me cumming that hard, three times...! You should be proud, not apologetic~!”

Leaning back breathlessly, he remarks, “I thought you'd enjoy that part... it's the ending I'm not sure about.”

“Hazard of the activity—and not entirely unpleasant, actually.”

“But-”

“Worth the results... all of them,” I reiterate, licking my lips in earnest. “It's an acquired taste, and a little weird, but... after you rocked my world, I couldn't just... stroke you out!”

After a moment spent staring at me, reading my reaction, his hand moves up to caress my cheek and he smiles, so I close my eyes and I nuzzle against his palm. Bringing my hand up to cover his, I sigh contentedly and we stay like that for a few minutes. Although I'm a little embarrassed that I found myself enjoying his release, it really had more to do with making him feel good, and I'd do it again if it meant putting that smile on his face.

“I guess I wasn't expecting it,” he says more calmly, taking a sharp breath, “I felt like I did something wrong.”

“It's okay, I said I would have kept going,” I remind him, sweeping my hand up along his arm, “and I knew what I was getting myself into, so don't feel bad. I love you, and I wanted you to feel good—how was it on your end, anyway?”

“I'm glad you stopped me there,” he says, reaching up to rub his chest, “I was probably pushing myself a little bit too much... trying to go for number four.”

Raising my eyebrows in shock, I slap his arm and scold, “Don't do that! Three was definitely enough! And I'd rather you stay alive to do that again... and again...” Smirking at his bewildered look, I giggle and wrap him in a tight hug. “And again... not right now... but definitely later.”

Chuckling in my arms, he sighs, “Insatiable...”

“So what if I am?” I balk, leaning back and pressing my hand over his scar, “Just don't do that every time. Pace yourself, okay?”

“Yes, my Queen; I'll try to scale back a little... so I'll be available to rock your world for years to come,” he replies, shrugging as he continues, “It's just that dress, your teasing, the ass-stroking... and then-”

“Okay, I get it... I keep blowing your mind~!”

Laughing, he leans back and agrees, “Almost literally.” After a short pause, he starts pulling his sleeve down over his hand. “Here, hold still,” he says, reaching toward my face, “I can at least clean that part up.”

“Ever the gentleman~!” I croon, lifting my face up so he can start wiping the sticky mess off my chin.

There's something special about having him clean my face, which I'm not sure he notices, but I find very sensual—even erotic. It's similar to having his strong hands holding me tightly, or his soft lips caressing mine, and makes me giggle a little. Once my chin is clean, his attention turns downward to where I notice there's a little white river running down into my cleavage. His hand working to clean up the spillage makes me sigh contentedly as I'm still sensitive after our escapade.

“Y'know, if you keep doing that, I might have to reward you again~!”

With an incredulous glance, he smirks derisively and suggests, “Maybe we could take a shower together?”

“I was just joking,” I say, which makes him frown, and I sort of feel like I'm disappointing myself.

Actually, taking a shower with him in the morning sounds like fun, but doing so would obviously mean us sleeping together overnight. Our first experience with horizontal sleep—as opposed to while sitting in a vehicle—ended with a rude awakening and a slight headache; the result of alcohol-induced indiscretions. The following morning was somewhat awkward, and inferences were made about our activities prior to crashing on the couch, but that was prior to his full confession, and long before we shared our first sexual experience together.

I wasn't quite ready to share a bed with him then...

However, after tonight, with some privacy, I'd give almost anything to sleep by his side, and wake with him holding me. Tomorrow is a half-day of school we can skip, and Mom basically gave me her blessing to stick by Hisao's side, advising that I let my feelings lead my actions where he's concerned; and I feel like sleeping over. The trouble is that he hasn't asked before, which makes it seem like he isn't interested in us spending the night in each other's arms. As I'm thinking, he starts searching around for the remnants of our escapade, but I don't want to wait and risk losing my nerve.

“Hisao?”

Stopping his search, he turns and smiles lazily. “Yes?”

“That shower you mentioned?” I say hesitantly, catching his full attention. Tentatively, I suggest, “I was just thinking... I might... sleep over... with you,” I pause, looking squarely into his eyes before continuing, “and we could do that in the morning.... if you want.”

Seeming like he was just waiting for me to stop talking, he excitedly replies, “Yes... of course...!” then furrows his brow and adds, “Are you kidding?”

“I wasn't sure you'd want me to sleep over,” I admit, shrugging and looking away, “you've... never asked.”

My statement makes him raise an eyebrow and slowly start chuckling, which makes me cringe, thinking he's laughing at me, but then he hugs me tightly. “Every night if we can!” he exclaims assuredly, “I only didn't ask because you're a stickler for curfew.”

As he continues chuckling, I start to ramble, “I'm still a stickler for curfew... but tomorrow is a pointless half-day, and we can skip if you want... Then there's Saturday nights when nobody really cares, and I always sleep in Sundays... you leave Sunday morning, and I just want to be with-”

Stopping me with a kiss, he continues laughing against me, and I start giggling with him. When he backs away, planting a few kisses on my nose, there's an excited look in his eyes. “We can figure out a schedule later—for now we should probably get inside,” he suggests, holding my arms and standing us up, watching me closely all the way. Once we're vertical, he asks for confirmation, “Long as you're sure about this?”

“Of course I'm sure,” I assure him, eying him incredulously, “When am I ever not sure?”

“About half the time,” he replies jokingly, lifting his pants up from around his ankles.

With a resigned shrug, I push my dress down and start looking around for the evidence of our escapade. After some careful searching we find all the remnants, and end up stuffing them into my purse; messy condom, soaked panties and all—I'm not a fond of carrying a purse, anyway. Once we've straightened ourselves out, he hands me my shoes, which I decide to continue carrying instead of wearing, and we start the slow walk back toward the dorms. As we pass the corner of the pool building, he dips down to pick up one last bit of evidence: my other pasty.

Handing it over so I can put it in my purse, he compliments, “You look sexier without these, by the way.”

Turning my gaze down toward my obviously stiff nipples poking against the dress fabric, I shrug and scoff, “They're almost always like that—it's annoying.”

“But it's one of their best qualities,” he comments, smiling sideways, “though I understand hiding them in public.”

With a sly smile, I remark, “If you want, I'll go bra-less like this some days... if you think you can handle it~!”

“I don't think I could handle not... handling that.”

“Maybe just pantie-less then,” I suggest, wrapping around his arm a little tighter, “I kinda like having a breeze against me down there.” My commentary makes him go silent, which is partially its intent, but it's all lucid honesty; I like putting myself on display for his pleasure.

I may need to approach my public teasing more carefully, though...

Even though it's late—past curfew probably—I'm still self-conscious about being dressed like this, especially now that I'm not wearing panties. With that in mind I lead us along a circuitous route following the back of the buildings, instead of the cement pathways, reducing the chance of being seen by anyone other than Hisao. There are a few open windows lit up among the upper floors of the boys' dorm, so, as we make our way around toward the back entrance, we stay quiet, and close to the wall.

The last problem we encounter is the evening watch, who hold a sleepy vigil outside the two entrances to each dorm building. Apparently Hisao worked out a plan for this some time ago, and instructs me to hide in the azalea bushes near the rear entrance while he doubles back. The door guard, an older man with gray-streaked black hair and a bushy mustache, sits on a stool just outside the open door wearing a green campus security jacket, and dozing against the wall. After watching the guard breathe for a few tense minutes, Hisao appears from the other side of the door, walking with his suit coat slung over his shoulder and grinning brightly.

“Hey, Nori, how's your little girl?” he greets as he approaches.

I guess he got to know the guards...

The guard, apparently named Nori, sits up with a start and turns a curious glance toward Hisao. “Ah, Mister Nakai,” he says cheerfully, “back late?”

“Went for a walk... a nice long one—to clear my head,” he says with a wry smirk, and probably a dirty thought, “I hope you don't mind.”

I'm happy his dirty mind matches my own...

“Not at all! It's a nice night for a walk,” Nori replies, stepping over and turning away.

“Yes,” Hisao replies, aiming a nod toward me, “Yes it is.”

Taking that as my cue, I start creeping through the underbrush, only catching wisps of their pleasant conversation as I'm quietly slipping into the boys dorm. Once inside, I hurriedly slink down the hall, head across the empty game room, and aim for the stairwell. The rush of adrenaline leaves me breathing heavily, leaning against the railing, and trying to hide out of view from through the little rectangular window. After a couple minutes, Hisao pushes through the door, smiling pridefully and rubbing his knuckles on his chest.

“I won't even get a reprimand,” he says coolly while I wrap him in a hug.

“Well done, Sneaky!” I congratulate him quietly, then smirk and nod toward the stairs.

Continuing along, we stay wary—there could be other boys roaming the halls—as we make our way up the short flight of stairs, and he leads us through the backwards route to his room. When we're about to turn down the last hallway, he stops and spins around, settling a questioning wince on me.

“Just one last check—you're sure about this?” he whispers, placing a reassuring hand on each of my shoulders.

“Absolutely,” I reply, punctuating my agreement with a hand brushing across his sternum, “You couldn't make me leave... and who knows... maybe I'll wake you up with a sexy hug.”

My innuendo makes his neck tense as he sucks in a breath. “You're so dirty... have I told you I love that?”

“I'm just saying what I know you're thinking~!”

That stops his protests, even if it's only a half-serious promise; I'm not really a morning person usually. Removing his shoes, he carries them like me to ensure we get past Kenji's looming presence, and we slip into Hisao's darkened room, both feeling totally exhausted. He almost turns on the lights, but stops, shrugs, and says there wouldn't be a point, to which I nod. Instead he starts stripping down to his boxers while I remove my dress. Standing nude in the moonlight breaking through his window, I feel him scanning over me for a few moments with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“You want a shirt?” he asks, and I shrug.

“Got anything oversized? I'm worried you might lose control in the middle of the night...”

“Well, you could borrow a pair of boxers, too,” he suggests, but I shake my head.

“Have you seen my hips?”

“Yeah... err, yeah... probably wouldn't fit...”

Shrugging again, I sigh and remark, “Hell with it, I trust you, and you followed my directions when you had me against the wall... just gimme a t-shirt so I don't get cold.”

“I doubt you'll be cold,” he mumbles, reaching for a blue t-shirt and tossing it over.

Probably the best thing about wearing his shirt is that it retains his smell: bath soap and deodorant, mixed with a little sweat—I feel almost like I'm wearing one of his hugs. Once I have it straightened, he gestures toward the bed and I comply, crawling in under his blankets and popping my head out to face the wall. Sliding in behind me, he shies away, leaving some space between us, but I reach back and guide him closer until we're spooning.

“You don't mind, do you?” I ask as he's getting comfortable.

“No, but I thought you might.”

“It's okay, you've got boxers on, and my boobs are covered...”

“Well, it's not just that... I'm still a little...”

“Hard,” I say plainly. “It's okay—only natural—just ask if you're not sure; I know how to say no,” I assure him, reaching back to pat his leg.

Chuckling a little, he rests his arm down along my thigh and asks, “May I hold you?”

Smiling at his tender tone, I reply, “Yes.”

With gentle fingers, he grasps my leg and presses against me, then asks, “May I squeeze you?”

At feeling his tent press against the back of my thigh, I giggle and answer, “Yes...”

Kissing my shoulder, he playfully asks, “May I... tie you to the bedpost and keep you prisoner?”

With a quick glance over my shoulder to read his mirthful expression, I laugh and answer coyly, “No... not tonight. Ask again sometime, though~!”

“Okay,” he replies with a sigh, “just let me know when you feel up to it.”

Reaching toward his hand on my thigh, I lace my fingers around his and nestle myself back until I'm basically sitting in his lap as we lie on our sides. After a few sharp breaths, he relaxes into the position, holding me firmly, but gently, and sharing his warmth. Instead of waking my senses, I feel like I'm sinking into his embrace, being lulled toward sleep by his steady, calming breaths. That euphoric feeling that nothing could possibly bother me is reinforced by his embrace, and it makes me feel safe, protected, and most of all, loved. As I sink deeper and feel my awareness start to slip away, I hear quiet mumbling, and turn lazily toward the sound.

“What?” I prompt groggily, barely conscious.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, just loud enough to hear.

“I know,” I answer lovingly, and I slip into slumber with a satisfied smile.

One step closer...
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Previous|Part 1|Part 2|Next Chapter

On the love scene:
Including another full, explicit love scene is something I decided was necessary for story balance; this one is more visceral and revolves around pleasure, while the previous one was tentative, and focused on exploration. I considered truncating it, and just giving highlights, but there's something happening in the scene (largely the playfulness and comfort between them) that couldn't quite get across in a few paragraphs.

Overall:
Well, there's that. I won't try to say it was fun, because that would be presumptuous, but that's what I was trying to provide; Hisao and Aiko having a good time together, and showing why they get along a little more--expressing the depth of their growing bond (no, that's not an innuendo).

Once again you blow my mind with your writing! Been a long time lurker and your story was the first OC I read and it is no doubt my favorite OC/story. I've read this story about two and a half times(stopped because site crashed and new chapter) and I can't get enough of it. Your story is really something man, from the story to the characters, even the amazingly written(in my opinion) explicit scenes are just wonderful. I can't wait 'till next wednesday! More power to you man *brofist*

Helbereth wrote:our lovely red caboose.

I'd bet Yoko has one of those too, if ya know what I mean.

Helbereth wrote:fedora

Damn. I've been conditioned to derive hatred from fedora wearers. Maybe I should spend less time on 4chan.

Helbereth wrote:gray-haired man, wearing red-tinted spectacles and a cheap, green suit in particular, who keeps staring at me creepily

I thought it might have been Nomiya at first. Frankly I wouldn't be surprised.

Helbereth wrote:happy valley...

Fuck, I'm never gonna be able to read that without laughing.

Helbereth wrote:champagne flutes for sparkling ginger-ale

Was gonna comment on legal age, but then I realised giner-ale isn't alcoholic. In any case, I think Enzo would probably let it slide even if they did order booze.

Helbereth wrote:about ten minutes of...

Of what? I suspect you meant "off".

Helbereth wrote:I meant what you knew,

I think this was used before, but I can't be bothered searching through the whole thread to find out. I'll assume it was deliberate.

Helbereth wrote:mouth-hug

Well that's a new one.

Helbereth wrote:or a hard one, rather

Helbereth wrote:three climaxes

Welp.

Okay, that's everything. Not really much more I can say. I'm glad this h-scene didn't have as much silly-metaphor tomfoolery as last time, I guess. Also I'm becoming acutely aware of just how many words one can put into a relatively small amount of story elements. I'm just hoping that not too many more are spent delaying the Huntington's talk.

13loop wrote:Once again you blow my mind with your writing! Been a long time lurker and your story was the first OC I read and it is no doubt my favorite OC/story. I've read this story about two and a half times(stopped because site crashed and new chapter) and I can't get enough of it. Your story is really something man, from the story to the characters, even the amazingly written(in my opinion) explicit scenes are just wonderful. I can't wait 'till next wednesday! More power to you man *brofist*

Well, welcome to... um... having a name on the forum...? I guess?

I try to make hump day a little more tolerable.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote: I'd bet Yoko has one of those too, if ya know what I mean.

I do believe that's well-established.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote: Damn. I've been conditioned to derive hatred from fedora wearers. Maybe I should spend less time on 4chan.

Yes, I've read similar hate-threads. However, in Kenta's case it's not "hipster chic", it's derived from a genuine interest in the jazz/swing era of the 40s; which is something Yoko shares. Her dress is meant to imitate something from that era with some modern flair (mostly in the more revealing cut).

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:

Helbereth wrote:gray-haired man, wearing red-tinted spectacles and a cheap, green suit in particular, who keeps staring at me creepily

I thought it might have been Nomiya at first. Frankly I wouldn't be surprised.

I was trying to evoke Nomiya, honestly. It isn't quite him, though. It's an archetypal description intended to immediately feel creepy.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:

Helbereth wrote:happy valley...

Fuck, I'm never gonna be able to read that without laughing.

Neither am I, honestly. That's why I like using it; it's so glaringly ridiculous.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote: Was gonna comment on legal age, but then I realised giner-ale[sic] isn't alcoholic. In any case, I think Enzo would probably let it slide even if they did order booze.

Considered the real thing, but decided I wanted them to stay sober.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:

Helbereth wrote:about ten minutes of...

Of what? I suspect you meant "off".

I had to explain this to both my editors: it's intentional. It's intended as 'ten minutes until'.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:

Helbereth wrote:I meant what you knew,

I think this was used before, but I can't be bothered searching through the whole thread to find out. I'll assume it was deliberate.

Yep, deliberate reversal of the wording; a colloquialism I'm fond of.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:

Helbereth wrote:or a hard one, rather

Boom goes the dynamite?

Helbereth wrote:three climaxes

Welp.

Communication and learning. Two of the best things you can have in a relationship.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:Okay, that's everything. Not really much more I can say. I'm glad this h-scene didn't have as much silly-metaphor tomfoolery as last time, I guess. Also I'm becoming acutely aware of just how many words one can put into a relatively small amount of story elements. I'm just hoping that not too many more are spent delaying the Huntington's talk.

And miles to go before I sleep.

Helbereth wrote:I had to explain this to both my editors: it's intentional. It's intended as 'ten minutes until'.

I have to say I've never heard that way of speaking before. It took some effort to find the right keywords for Google to return even a single example of such a phrase being used (it was here, by the way). Presented with evidence that it has at least happened before, I can't argue semantics, but it's really quite awkward to read for anyone unfamiliar with that terminology.

Helbereth wrote:

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:giner-ale[sic]

Curse you and your keen eye for my spelling mistakes. Always with the "[sic]"s. I'm gonna have to start proofreading my regular posts now. Or I could leave some in there, to keep you on your toes.

Just found one this time:

Ahead of Hisao and I

Hisao and me...

Really good writing again, though I usually don't care much for H-scenes. I guess I might have mentioned that before.
Anyway, I agree with Blackwaltz that your recent chapters seem to include quite a lot of words compared to quite little plot. You might want to pick up the pace a little...

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote: I have to say I've never heard that way of speaking before. It took some effort to find the right keywords for Google to return even a single example of such a phrase being used (it was here, by the way). Presented with evidence that it has at least happened before, I can't argue semantics, but it's really quite awkward to read for anyone unfamiliar with that terminology.

Meanwhile, I've never heard it spoken any other way... you can imagine why this question seemed ridiculous to me.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:giner-ale[sic]
Curse you and your keen eye for my spelling mistakes. Always with the "[sic]"s. I'm gonna have to start proofreading my regular posts now. Or I could leave some in there, to keep you on your toes.

I really mentioned it here because you were quoting me.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Just found one this time:

Ahead of Hisao and I

Hisao and me...

I should start sending you the pre-release link, because you're the only one who ever notices these.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Really good writing again, though I usually don't care much for H-scenes. I guess I might have mentioned that before.

Yes, and I mentioned I don't necessarily like them either. This one had stuff scattered throughout I wanted to use to show their growth as a couple, and truncating the actual action around it would probably just seem unfair.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Anyway, I agree with Blackwaltz that your recent chapters seem to include quite a lot of words compared to quite little plot. You might want to pick up the pace a little...

They're decidedly 'happy slice of life' chapters, riddled with joking, teasing, and other such tomfoolery. It's intentional. It has a purpose, so just have fun made you look!.

Helbereth wrote:

Mirage_GSM wrote:Just found one this time:

Hisao and me...

I should start sending you the pre-release link, because you're the only one who ever notices these.

I can't even use the excuse of being a humanities major here...

(disembowels self with fountain pen in shame)

Good thing I'm a Time Lord.

Anyway, I never understood the fedora hate, but maybe that's because I seem to like the Roaring Twenties as much as Yoko does. Although, when I first read that description of Kenta's outfit, I thought of a Red Mage pimp...

You know, i usually find sex scenes in VN's and fanfics etc to be underwhelming or somewhat contrived, however, i must admit that this was a damn hot scene and made sense in the building context.

I sort of see what BlackWaltz and Mirage meant be the slowing down of the plot, but i don't see that as a bad thing, aslong as it has a purpose. I liked the 'slice of life' and to be honest i wish more fanfics had the occasional slice of life thrown in just to give some extra detail and all that jazz, as long as its is worked in well.

Nicely done.

Helbereth wrote:

...ten minutes of the hour...

Meanwhile, I've never heard it spoken any other way... you can imagine why this question seemed ridiculous to me.

While my first thought reading that passage also was that there was probably an "f" missing, expressions for time vary widely by region. Where I'm from, there are some regions where people say the equivalent of "quarter nine" when they mean "quarter past eight" which used to confuse me to no end.
In the context of this chapter the meaning was clear however.

I should start sending you the pre-release link, because you're the only one who ever notices these.

Feel free to do so, though I can't promise I'll always be able to keep up with your very ambitious schedule.
Also, usually Hoitash is good at picking those up as well...

They're decidedly 'happy slice of life' chapters, riddled with joking, teasing, and other such tomfoolery. It's intentional. It has a purpose, so just have fun.

As long as you're aware...

Hoitash wrote:...Red Mage pimp

Damn, now the picture won't go away ^^°

Mirage_GSM wrote: Also, usually Hoitash is good at picking those up as well...

Thanks, though I can't help feel that statement is in error.

Hoitash wrote:...Red Mage pimp

Damn, now the picture won't go away ^^°

I know, isn't it awesome?

Sperance wrote:Kinky. I like it!

I'm glad someone approves.

Wookie wrote:You know, i usually find sex scenes in VN's and fanfics etc to be underwhelming or somewhat contrived, however, i must admit that this was a damn hot scene and made sense in the building context.

Honestly, at this point, all I see is the grammar anymore (I probably read the sequence about 300 times), so I'm glad it still has the intended 'hot' factor.

Wookie wrote:I sort of see what BlackWaltz and Mirage meant be the slowing down of the plot, but i don't see that as a bad thing, aslong as it has a purpose. I liked the 'slice of life' and to be honest i wish more fanfics had the occasional slice of life thrown in just to give some extra detail and all that jazz, as long as its is worked in well.

Nicely done.

It warms the cockles of my heart (thank you Denis Leary for making me aware of words like cockles) hearing that it's apparently working as intended. There's still more fluff to follow, but it's organized fluff, purposeful fluff, fluff with a cause, and fluff I hope will remain entertaining. And there is a reckoning to come--Hoitash knows of what I speak.

Mirage_GSM wrote: Feel free to do so, though I can't promise I'll always be able to keep up with your very ambitious schedule.

Well, I only release one chapter a week. Just lately I've been writing ahead because I've had the writing bug (why leash myself when I can be productive?).

Mirage_GSM wrote:Also, usually Hoitash is good at picking those up as well...

neio has done the catching where those are concerned. Hoitash is great for finding those 'missing word' moments, commenting on the references (I'm surprised nobody brought up Hisao's quote), and stuff like that.

Mirage_GSM wrote: As long as you're aware...

These started right after "Best Laid Plans"--which was the last time Aiko really sunk deep in her thoughts. Since then she's had a lot of reason to be happy and take in things as they come(doing my submit preview, I realized this sounded like innuendo, but I decided to leave it for giggles). Writing this recent section, I finally realized who my antagonist is: Aiko's brain. With it being pumped full of endorphins, and happy about seeing family again, the 'bad guy' in the story is on a hiatus.

Classically, that can't last.

Mirage_GSM wrote: Damn, now the picture won't go away ^^°

Y'know, he mentioned that when I sent him the full draft (which was like a week and a half ago), but I didn't quite see it. I still don't. I might be attached to the intent behind the description, though...

Helbereth wrote: Y'know, he mentioned that when I sent him the full draft (which was like a week and a half ago), but I didn't quite see it. I still don't. I might be attached to the intent behind the description, though...

The fact that I used to live in an area where the pimps dressed like the outfit you described was probably what influenced my line of thought.