Couch
< < "We're back!"
"What'd you get?" Noel called out from the kitchen.
"A thriller," Ricky said. "*Abandon*."
Angela waited for Noel and Ricky to head to the living room; she followed. She noticed with a little dismay that Ricky had parked himself in the corner, leaving her to sit on the couch near Noel's recliner. Angela had been hoping she could put Ricky between her and Noel. The thing with the sheets that morning had weirded her out...
"*Abandon*, huh?" Noel asked. "I don't know that one. Is it old? Who's in it?"
Angela checked the back of the box for the synopsis. "Katie Holmes and Benjamin Bratt. From a couple years ago."
"Well, drop it in and let's roll it."
It took Angela a while to get into the movie. Noel kept fidgeting in his chair, and it was distracting her. She practically jumped every time he moved. It wasn't until he finally settled down that she could concentrate on the movie. Fortunately it was pretty predictable, and she caught up with it quickly.
Unfortunately, it was heading into some uncomfortable territory -- a relationship between a bright young college student and an emotionally-vulnerable cop. And dammit if Benjamin Bratt didn't look a little like Noel Aquino. Not in any specifics, but just in general, like the way he carried himself. The way he moved. The looks he gave. Furtive. Fearful. Longing.
Why did she have to pick this movie? She just liked the picture on the box. Why couldn't she have liked the picture on some other box?
Angela felt his eyes on her. Not Ricky's -- the boy was completely oblivious in the corner.
Noel's eyes. She looked back. He smiled -- busted. She smiled back, nervous.
Why did he always have to look at her? Why did he have to be thinking about her? Especially *that* way? She was half his age. Sure, he was handsome and all, but he was her boyfriend's dad. He was like *her* dad.
She remembered the time in the police station. When she'd been arrested as Sapphire. When he'd helped her. When he'd held her. Why couldn't it just be like that? Why did it have to get all weird? Couldn't a guy look at a girl and not have his *thing* get in the way?
Angela shuddered; thoughts like that made her skin crawl. Her whole body shivered; she went into a langorous full-body stretch to cover her spontaneous reaction, and to help her relax and brush it off.
She felt Ricky sitting next to her on the couch. She put her feet up in his lap. He began rubbing them.
Yeah, that feels good. Relaxing...
Ricky's soft firm hands began stroking up and down her leg. Mmmmm... she felt her whole body turn to jelly. Thoughts of Noel and his pervish ways seemed to vanish under the sweet assault of the gentle caresses...
And then she felt something warm move in her hand.
No, just her imagination.
Angela watched half-awake, half-dreaming. Katie Holmes' character onscreen gave the older detective character a look that was innocence and trepidation and desire all at once.
Ricky's hand had slid up to caress along her tummy. Felt sooo gooood. She sighed softly.
Then she felt that movement under her hand again. Oh, no... when she stretched, did she put her hand on Noel's? God, there was no telling how he might take that... She focused for a moment on exactly how she'd wound up sprawled out on the couch. Where her arm was. What that was under her arm -- it was Noel's arm. But if that was his arm, then what was her hand on?
Oh...
Noel suddenly sneezed. It hit the room like an explosion. Angela sat suddenly upright. She felt like her hand was on fire. She was afraid to move. She'd just been fondling Noel's... ohgod ohgod ohgod no no no . . .
She wanted to run out of the room. But then Ricky would follow, and ask her what happened, and she couldn't look him in the eye, not after... God, Ricky was already looking at her funny. The boy knew something had happened, he just didn't know what. Angela could only sit there and pretend nothing was wrong. Pretend she was watching the movie. The screen in front of her was a blur -- she couldn't focus. The actors' voices came at her through a tunnel. Like they were in a dark wet basement.
And then the movie was over. The instant the room blackened for the credits, Noel shot up out of his chair and flew out of the room. Angela pretended not to notice. If the roof was suddenly ripped off and everything around her sucked out by a tornado, she would sit there pretending not to notice. She didn't know what else to do. After all the weird signals, after looking at the way she'd unintentionally teased the man, after knowing he'd fantasized about her, how could she let her hand fall in his lap?
God, he was probably fantasizing about her right now in the bathroom. The thought was too vile for her mind to contain it.
"What the hell was that about?" Ricky asked.
"I don't know," Angela answered without looking at him. "I guess he had to go. Too much soda maybe."
"Yeah." Ricky didn't sound convinced.
Angela realized that eventually Noel would come out of the bathroom. When he did, she didn't want to be here. She faked a yawn and stood. "Well, I'm tired, I'm going to bed." Before she'd finished her sentence she was halfway out of the room.
Angela tossed and turned in bed. Disturbing dreams came to haunt her. She was having sex with Ricky. Like they'd had last night. Beautiful. Energetic. Fun. But as she approached climax, her lover changed. His strokes became more determined. Longer. More... precise. As if he was feeling for exactly the right spot. It was fantastic. He was so experienced, so fast, like he'd studied and meditated and abstained for months since their last coupling. But it had just been last night...
Her climax was close. So close. She found herself reaching down, but found his hand already there. She looked up at her lover with a wry smile...
...and as her orgasm claimed her, Noel smiled back.
Angela's eyes shot open as the dream gave way to reality. She was breathing hard. Had she just...? The details came flooding back to her. She'd had a fantasy about Noel. But why? She loved Ricky. She wanted Ricky. Sweet Ricky. Young Ricky. Immature Ricky. Horndog Ricky. Hesitant Ricky. Not Noel.
As she lay in her bed, calming herself and sorting out her confused feelings, she gradually felt a presence in the room. As if someone was watching her. She was afraid to look. Her ears burned with effort. Was there really someone there in the doorway? Was it Ricky? Had he heard her?
She had to look. She had to prove there was no one there. Slowly, she tilted her head toward the doorway. Slowly, ever so slowly, she let her eyes fall to the opening to the darkness of the hallway.
And what she saw froze her to the bed.
Noel Aquino, staring back at her.