5. Good Side

Ryan and I stopped at a little, 24-hour, pan-Asian restaurant and placed a to-go order. We made a little small talk as we waited the fifteen minutes until our food was ready, and then we were right back out the door and in his car.

“Ugh, it smells so good,” I observed, breathing in the fumes that were being emitted from the plastic bag in my hands. Even though I had eaten dinner and split nachos with Carla at the game, my stomach started to vehemently demand food as soon as we walked into the restaurant. The aroma of good food did that to me. “I can’t wait to eat.”

“I’m surprised you’re hungry, considering everything you ate the last time we went out.”

I laughed, covering up the embarrassment that I felt from overeating like that. But it had been so long since I had eaten real food, and when he ordered his meal, the chicken dish that had originally caught my eye had lost its appeal and I started craving steak. It wasn’t ladylike and it definitely wasn’t attractive, but my appetite had gotten the best of me. “Yeah, it wore off pretty quickly.”

He was silent for a moment as he threw the car in drive and eased it out onto the road. I was staring out the windshield, but I saw out of the corner of my eye as Ryan cast a sideways glance at me. His voice was quiet. “So, uh, just checking, but we’re going to my place tonight, right?”

It was cute, like he was making sure he was going to get lucky. After the performance he had given on our last date, of course he was gonna see some action tonight. “Yeah.”

Ryan lived in a really nice section of Vancouver, but it’s not like I would expect any different. The house had a gorgeous façade, and the inside was even nicer: hardwood floors, black leather couches, a giant flat-screen TV, and the whole place was brightly lit. The rooms were open and inviting. He led me into the kitchen, where I set the take-out bag down so I could slip out of my jacket.

“Ugh, the bag’s leaking,” he groaned, ripping off some paper towels to clean off the marble countertop. Then he looked up at me and grimaced. “Your shirt.”

“Oh, no!” I hollered, looking down to see a big red blotch on my nice RK17 shirt. I loved this thing, and I didn’t want to see it ruined. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Upstairs, second door on the left,” he explained, and as soon as the words left his mouth, I took off in a dash.

As soon as I found the door, I barged in, flicked on the light, and tore off my shirt. I turned on the faucet, pumped some soap onto the spot, and began to furiously start rubbing it out.

Ryan’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Amanda, don’t worry about it....”

“But I love this shirt,” I sighed, scrubbing away. I didn’t want to have to throw it away.

He stopped in the threshold of the bathroom, watching me. I was so absorbed in my task that I forgot that I was standing there in my bra and no top. My brand new black lace bra that I had bought specifically for him to take off. It had been a long time since I had bought new lingerie, but not only did this occasion practically demand it, but also I could finally afford it because of all the publicity I had cashed in on—literally—from shooting his clothing line.

He added, “I can get you a new one.”

“But—”

His hand was over mine, stilling it. I could feel his body heat radiating off of him and his presence at my back. His breath made my hair blow slightly. “Leave it.”

I turned to face him, and then I opened my mouth to rebut again, but he prevented me from speaking by kissing me. Really kissing me, not like the soft pecks he had treated me to before. This was deep and intense, overwhelming and all-consuming. Ryan pinned me back against the sink, and then when that wasn’t good enough, he reached around and grabbed the backs of my thighs and hitched me up so I was sitting on the ceramic ledge.

My hands couldn’t stay in one place for long. They combed through his hair, wrapped around his neck, squeezed his shoulders, moved up and down his arms... I wanted to touch all of him at once. I pushed him back a few millimeters so I could rip off his tie and unbutton his dress shirt. His body was perfect, muscular but not too defined or bulging to be disgusting. I stared at his chest while he stared at mine.

Before I could unbuckle his belt, he yanked me toward him and off the sink. We stumbled out into the hallway; I worked on undressing us further as he pointed us in the direction of his bedroom. I didn’t pay attention to where we were going because I didn’t care, just so long as there was a horizontal surface for us to put to good use.

Our stray clothing littered the floor. By the time we made it into his room, I was in my bra and panties and he was in his boxers—those damn Illegal Curve boxer briefs that conjured up the image of his chiseled body in black and white. I moaned.

“You like these,” he breathed. Maybe it was a statement, or maybe it was supposed to be a question—but either way, he knew I liked them and I didn’t have to answer. But I especially liked the way they tented in the front.

“I do.”

“I like these,” he added, his fingers brushing the front of my black lace boy shorts.

“Do you?” I turned and faced the bed so he could get the view from behind. The panties were completely see-through, and I hoped that that would be the kind of thing that would get him off.

“Oh yeah,” he answered. Ryan surprised me by urging me toward the bed and then falling on top of me, pinning me face-first against the mattress. I could feel how hard he was because his erection was right against my ass.

He kissed the back of my neck, nipping at my skin. His hands deftly unclasped my bra, and then they slid between me and the mattress and cupped my breasts. I turned my face and called out his name, “Ryan.”

“Amanda,” he said against my skin.

We rolled over and he totally discarded my bra. As I straddled him, he kneaded my tits and squeezed them and then tweaked my nipples. I started to grind on top of him, wondering what it would feel like when he was finally inside of me. I had been thinking about it for a whole week; I hoped it would be just as good as I was imagining it would.

“Ryan,” I repeated. I planted a hand on either side of his head above his shoulders and leaned over him. He pushed up and met me halfway, pulling a hard nipple into his mouth and biting down softly—almost making me forget what I wanted to say. But I remembered. “Fuck me, please.”

We switched positions again so he could be on top. I pushed my panties off while he took care of his boxers, and then we were completely naked. He rolled on a rubber and then grabbed my legs, pulling me down on the soft, plush bed. Ryan slid a hand up my stomach, between my breasts, and then down to juncture between my legs. His thumb barely grazed my clit, but it got a mighty response from me as my back arched involuntarily and gasp escaped my mouth.

Slowly, he eased himself into me, filling me until I wasn’t sure I had any more room for him. Ryan felt good, amazing, just like I had expected and maybe a little better, too. He rocked his hips so his pelvic bone massaged my clit, and I grabbed onto his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his hips.

He kept that up until I started moaning and breathing hard and deep. I offered him encouragement and praise all the while to let him know that I was enjoying everything he was doing. “Oh, yes, Ryan. Right there. Just like that. Ooh, yeah.”

With a grunt, he began to thrust in and out—and that felt even better. I continued to hold onto him, clutching Ryan like he was a life raft and I would drown without him to anchor me. I was crying out, begging him not to stop.

Ryan grabbed my legs from around him and pushed my knees toward my chest, deepening his angle and moving even faster. There was a sheen covering his body from the exertion of the physical activity, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. I slicked it back before I cupped the back of his neck and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss right as I climaxed, suddenly and almost furiously.

After a few tell-tale pants and grunts, Ryan plunged in again as far as he could, his balls slapping loudly against me, and he came, too.
_______________________________________________

We lay on my bed for a while, not saying anything but just kind of coexisting in the same space. I was on my back, and she was on her side, curling up against me, and I had my arm around her shoulders. My fingers absentmindedly ran up and down the length of her upper arm.

I wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular, choosing instead to just hang out and bask in the kind of satisfaction of a good day that can only come post-coitus. And then I remembered about our food. “I think our meals’re getting cold,” I yawned, looking down at Amanda. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly pouted.

I chuckled to myself; she had already fallen asleep. I carefully removed my arm from around her and headed for the kitchen to put our food away. Well, I ate a couple bites before I set the Styrofoam containers in the fridge, and then I headed back up to bed. Amanda was still sleeping, so I pulled back the covers as much as I possibly could and took my place beside her again. It had been a long since I had fallen asleep next to someone in my own bed, content to spend the entire night that way.

It was easy to fall asleep. A lot of times, after games, I would be all wound up and full of adrenaline, wide awake and unable to sleep until hours later. But the extra physical activity in bed and the rush of the release helped to drain me of that excess energy. I slept well.

When I woke up, I was groggy and disoriented. Sometimes that happened after a great night’s sleep, since we were on the road so often throughout the season. It wasn’t uncommon for that to happen, to forget in the morning if we were home or away. It was especially weird because I woke up beside someone, a warm and soft body. That had really thrown me off, until I remembered who it was and what happened last night.

Amanda was still asleep, and I let her continue to snooze. The girl sure could sleep, because she was out before me, too. I lay there and enjoyed the moment. It still surprised me, the way that I felt so comfortable around her when I only knew her for a short amount of time. Hell, we had only been on two dates, but it didn’t feel like it mattered that I didn’t know a whole heck of a lot about her, because I felt at ease and like myself when I was around her. The way she made me feel weighed more in my estimation than what I knew. The fact that I was content to merely lie around with her said a lot.

She stirred a little, but didn’t yet wake. A few minutes later, she squirmed again and yawned. Her eyes stayed close. She said, “Morning.”

“Good morning,” I replied. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked back at me. When she smiled, I smiled right back at her. Our faces were close, but we didn’t kiss. Morning breath.

Amanda nestled under the sheet and comforter, burying and cocooning herself in the bed so I could only see the top half of her head. She closed her eyes again, and her words were muffled by the blankets. “What time is it?”

I glanced at the alarm clock on her side of the bed—or the side of the bed she was taking up. It was way too early to be assigning her a side. “Hmm, about seven thirty.” I put an arm around her and pulled the blankets down enough to uncover the rest of her face. “I’ve got about an hour before I have to take you home and go to practice. Do you want breakfast?”

“Mmm, you cooking?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“As a matter of fact....”

“Okay, sounds good. Can I just get a second to get cleaned up and dressed?”

I got out of bed and threw on a fresh pair of boxers, knowing that I had a clean outfit down in the laundry room that I could wear. “Sure thing.” I left quickly to give her some privacy.

After I stepped into a pair of jeans and pulled a polo shirt on, I headed into the kitchen and rooted around for something to cook. I didn’t often cook breakfast, usually opting to grab some granola bars or fruit or just eat something offered at the rink, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t cook, just so long as I had the ingredients. Luckily, I was able to find some pancake mix, and I had some eggs and some sausage links in the freezer. I was thankful that I was prepared, because I would have looked like an ass if I had offered Amanda breakfast without having anything to actually make.

“Smells good in here,” she said as she padded down the stairs and joined me. Amanda looked so natural in so many ways: she looked pretty in jeans and one of my shirts that she had pilfered from my dresser—I had completely forgotten that hers had gotten ruined last night—as well as looking like it was no big deal to be here with me on a morning following a night in my bed. Any other girl would have made this morning so awkward and unbearable—but this was more than just tolerable, it was enjoyable. Plus, her hair was finger-combed and still kind of messy, and her face was freshly scrubbed; she was still cute even under simple circumstances, not like girls who needed make-up and all the accoutrements to look good. Best of all, she was smiling widely. “I’m kind of surprised to find out you cook. Or do you cook for every girl you bring home?”

She was either teasing me or testing me. So I answered honestly, “I hardly ever make breakfast, and I never cook for anyone.”

“I’d say I’m honored,” she chuckled, her hand coming up to her cup her cheek and hide her slight blush, “but maybe I’ll wait to try it before I do.”

“You be the judge,” I laughed, flipping a pancake.

It took a few minutes for everything to finish, but I placed a hot plate in front of Amanda, who took a perch on one of the stools at the counter. I pulled out the maple syrup and then asked, “Do you want ketchup?”

“No thanks.” She picked up her fork and cut into the stack, but didn’t eat. “Aren’t you having any?”

“No,” I replied, taking the other stool to sit with her. I grabbed a banana from the counter and began to unpeel it. “I’m not a big breakfast eater, so I usually just grab something small to eat before practice so I don’t have an empty stomach.”

“So you made all this... just for me?”

I nodded. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal to me because it was something that I had wanted to do for her, but I guess that wanting to do it for her was the big deal. Amanda busied herself with eating and then insisted on doing the dishes since I cooked. I was perfectly fine with that, watching the way she moved around in my kitchen in my shirt. It was oversized on her and tucked in just in the front of her jeans.

“Okay, all clean,” she said, turning toward me. “So, I guess we can leave now? I know I’ve got some work to do that I can get started on.”

“Yeah.” I grabbed for my keys and paused for a moment. “You know, we never ate last night.”

“I don’t think we were very hungry.”

“So do you wanna come over for lunch then? I mean, we shouldn’t let that food go to waste.”

“How very practical of you,” Amanda laughed. “Or is that an excuse to have more sex?”

It was my turn to laugh. We certainly hadn’t skirted around the physical aspect of a new relationship, but I thought that things had progressed like that just because we felt so comfortable with each other already. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t want to also get to know her, her, and not just how to push all the right buttons on her body. “It’s an invitation for conversation and company while we eat.”

For good measure, I hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her against me, and then I lowered my voice as I said in her ear, “And if an afternoon delight ends up being a part of that, well, I certainly wouldn’t be complaining.” Just so I was clear that I wouldn’t turn down anything extra.

She slung her arms around me and kissed me, firmly at first and then getting softer as she slowly pulled away. “Well, I guess you can call me when you’re finished with practice then, and we’ll see how things go. But I’m helping Carla move tomorrow, so you’re not allowed to wear me out.”

“She’s moving?”

“Yeah.” Amanda shrugged dismissively.

“Is this because—”

“No,” she explained. “She’d been wanting to move for a while, and now that business’s picked up like this, she’s found the reason to get her own place. That’s actually why I could use a few hours at the studio this morning, since I’ll be busy tomorrow. I’ve got a bunch of proofs that I have to have ready for some clients on Monday.”

I twirled my key ring around my finger, looking at her carefully. She had her own things going on, her own life, and I liked that. “Well, aren’t you a busy little bee?”

Amanda smiled. “It’s all thanks to you. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s all publicity from your photo shoot.”

“I’ve seen your work, though, what you were doing with Tanner and Emily. You’re good. Your assistant said something about a picture being worth a thousand words, but when I looked at them, I don’t know, they kind of left me speechless.”

Amanda smiled and thanked me for the compliment. “That means a lot. You know, I’d love to shoot you again someday. Will you let me?”

I grimaced. “I’m not really that comfortable in front of the camera, Amanda.”

“You may not feel comfortable, but you take a damn good picture. If I hadn’t’ve been on set, I never would have thought you weren’t a natural.”

“I think that’s more thanks to you than it is a credit to me,” I laughed. “I think my modeling career’s over. I’ll tell you this, though... if I have to do it again for Firstar, I’ll have to have them write it into my contract that you’ll be the one photographing me. You make me look good.”

“Nah, you look good all on your own.” She smoothed my collar and then headed for the door, and I started to follow her. “I just make sure to get you on your good side.”