Shape

Kate and Andy (Part 1 – The Rebound)

Kate was thirty the day she flew to Reno to get her divorce. 

She’d gotten married in Nevada, and she was told it was cheaper and easier to get divorced there, too, no muss, no fuss; although she hadn’t heard of anybody doing that since the 1950s, she’d filed the paperwork and now it was time to go to the courthouse, pick up the document and have done with it. 

She didn’t have to go in person to do that, but she just kind of wanted to get out of LA. It was at first a disappointing experience. There was nothing, she found, more depressing than a casino hotel when you were all alone. Except maybe sitting in your room in the casino hotel because you were all alone. 

And then the next day she went to the airport early, only to find out her plane home was going to be late.

So that was how she met Andy.

It was pure rebound and she knew it, but that was okay.

He had an amazing smile, intense blue-grey eyes with long lashes, set off by a ruggedly masculine jaw and strong cheekbones. His hair was a little long in the back and unruly on the sides and thick. He was the kind of physical package that would’ve immediately wowed any woman, at least any woman who hadn’t just gotten an ostensibly zip-less yet somehow still incredibly painful divorce.

In spite of her well justified reserve that afternoon, it didn’t take him all that long to win her over. Just the hour the plane sat on the runway due to mechanical difficulties, and how his arm brushed hers, and his hand touched hers, and there was this match flare of chemistry between them. 

Then, once they were finally towed back to the terminal, and told the plane was scheduled to take off in another hour, the unspoken deal between them was sealed while they consumed some uninspired Cheez-Whiz-based nachos and weak Margaritas at El Tortilla, which was what passed for a Mexican restaurant in the Reno airport.

It was that smile, really, and the way he kept somehow making her laugh, effortlessly, the way she hadn’t laughed in a long time, that convinced her to spend the evening with him. Well, okay, convinced her maybe there was the chance they’d be spending something more than just an evening together.

It wasn’t her imagination that his knee touched her knee, and she hoped it wasn’t his kicking in when she moved her knee closer to his, and then instead of sitting across the table from one another they were side by side, ostensibly sharing a second bowl of chips, because it was easier to reach sitting like that. But they both knew that wasn’t the real reason.

“Back in LA, want to get a real dinner, a better drink?”

“Sure,” she said. 

But when they returned to the gate, they found that plane wasn’t going anywhere. Midnight was the new scheduled time. They have six hours to kill.

They’d already acquainted themselves with and bonded over the similar aspects of their careers – he was a newspaper reporter who worked crime beat; she was a homicide detective. So they were both involved in pursuing, either for arrest or attribution, various criminal low-lifes. They exchanged mutually amusing, cynical anecdotes about their work. They easily discovered they were both unattached, that Kate was newly unattached, and that he should avoid that subject altogether, although she’d tried not to be too prickly about it. And they determined that neither one of them was into feeding dollar bills and quarters in to airport slot machines. So, they decided to take a ride.

He rented a car, the only one available he said, a very sexy choice, a Cadillac convertible. He drove it top down through a warm summery night, headed for the deep blue waters of Lake Tahoe where he’d spent the preceding long weekend, fishing.

He took her to a fine little place he knew for dinner, with a porch looking over the water, a row of white lights strung from the roof, substantially better margaritas, cold beer, fresh trout, baked potatoes, and a rich chocolate lava cake for desert. He told jokes and she laughed. He was a very funny guy, smart funny. She started telling jokes herself, and he laughed, too. She’d never realized before just how funny she was.

And then his leg touched her leg under the table again. His hand brushed her arm. And now she found her hand wrapped around his neck and she pulled him close. Tongue and lips and lips and tongue, it was perfect and kind of endless and it might’ve lasted minutes or maybe an hour. He stroked her back through her dress, and feeling his warm fingers tracing her spine, how she wanted him to unhook her bra. She dropped her hand to his thigh, and lightly, shyly at first, but then more insistently, inched her hand higher, just shy of his balls, just barely shy…she wanted to feel what he felt like. It was so, so tempting. Would he mind? Would he love it? Would he think she was awful or think she was cool? Before she could decide, she became distracted with the way he was stroking her back, and grazing his fingers away from her back toward the front of her dress – would he do it, would he touch her breasts? If he did, she was for sure going to touch his balls. And his cock…

The kissing and delicious groping went on so long that someone at the restaurant bar called out, “Hey, get a room.”

So, after they broke apart, both of them blushing, and laughed, they paid the bill and left the restaurant. 

 And there they were, on the way back to the convertible, without talking about the getting a room thing just yet, kissing under the pines, in the shadows by the parking lot. And the kiss lasted so long and made her so breathless that they just had to kiss again, and then he was kissing her neck, her shoulders, her arms right down to her fingers, until at last they were hungrily mouth to mouth again. It was this third kiss that led them into the back seat of the convertible where they became deeply involved in the removal of her bra – finally! and his belt, oh yes, finally – while keeping the kissing going, so involved that they didn’t notice when it began to rain. 

Her hand found his cock, and it was firm, and thick, and insistent, and he pulled down her panties, and she was so glad she’d worn the black lace in honor of being officially single. 

The rain was just a sprinkle at first, but at last they noticed and she said, with her voice so low and husky she almost didn’t recognize the sound of it, “Maybe – put the top up?”

And with his shirt all untucked and belt dangling he climbed into the front seat and turned the ignition and pressed the button that was supposed to make the roof go up, but it didn’t.

Laughing, she joined him, bra straps loose, skirt all bunched up, panties discarded on the back seat. She leaned across him and tried the switch herself.

“You didn’t believe me,” he said, exaggerating it, like his feelings were hurt, and then they were laughing again. Wow it felt good to laugh like this. To be half undressed like this – 

So, sure, they got a little distracted by each other’s disarray, they took a few moments to do a little more groping and kissing and undressing – lose the bra altogether, so he could push down the straps of her dress and suck her nipples erect. She helped him pull off his shirt, and rubbed her hands through his chest hair, and she climbed on his lap but she didn’t actually take him inside her.

 Honestly, they did try, the really did try to get the roof up on the car. She even pulled the service manual from the glove box, read the instructions twice to be sure, because they were a little bit hard to follow with him licking and kissing her breasts, his hand working up under her skirt, making her as wet inside as the rain was making her outside.

Eventually, the rain came down harder, and she pulled her dress around her, and he zipped up his pants, and they both got out of the car and tried manually tugging the roof up, but it wouldn’t rise more than half way, they got absolutely soaked, and now the car was flooding. 

So really what choice did they have but to drive to the nearest covered parking garage – attached to a motel just down the road – and leave the car inside, hoping it would dry out, while they took a room for the night.

They got quite a look at the front desk, both of them wet, her arms folded over her chest to sort of at least hide her breasts through the thin gauzy fabric of her dress. He had his dropping wet jacket tied around his waist to hide what was going on below his re-buckled belt.

But they got the key to the room, and went up in the elevator, the air conditioning blowing goose-bump-inducing air through the vents that made her nipples even harder, and he was flicking them with fingers while he kissed her as the elevator dinged two, three, four, and finally five. They were peeling off their wet clothes again while they were still in the hall, his shirt gone, her dress unzipped, they kicked off their shoes and fell across the bed and didn’t quite finish taking off everything. Her dress fell in a fold around her waist as he kissed and licked her breasts; he lifted the skirt until the dress itself was just a sodden band around her middle, and he stroked her until she came, then licked her until she came again, and then with dress still jumbled around her she rose up on her knees and took him in her mouth, and made him come, his wet jeans still pooled around his ankles. 

Round two, he pulled off her dress, she tugged off his pants, and they fell back together with her on top and then him, rolling around until the sheets were half off the bed, and she cried out loud enough that someone from the room next door thumped on the wall until she was quiet, and even then a guy called out “I’m trying to sleep!”

They lay back on the pillows, a naked mixture of sweaty and rain-wet and come-wet, and they both started laughing, trying to stifle the laughs with their pillows as Andy said “I thought he was going to tell us to go get a room and I was going to remind him we did.”

For round three, away from the offending wall, with the fan going for background noise in case the walls were super thin, he took her from behind pressed against the marble of the double sink, watching themselves in the bathroom mirror, listening to the slap of his skin against her skin, feeling how wet and loose she was and how hard and ready he was – it was just the perfect way to be in sync.  

And they were so, so in sync. 

When he turned on the shower, she noticed he still had one sock on, and oh how they laughed at that, never mind Mr. Goes to Sleep Early next door. The shower had a little ledge of a seat in it, so he sat down and she climbed on him, and that was round four, while he soaped her breasts, and massaged her anus with his soapy fingers, and she sucked on his ear lobes, and the water spilled down steamy around them.

The rain stopped by morning, it was a beautiful, radiant day, sunshine streaming in, the lake a devastating azure. He suggested they stay another day, rent a boat, maybe; but she had work to get back to, a life she had to put back together, a checked bag already making its way to Burbank. And things were just happening too fast, it couldn’t possibly be real, could it what she was feeling, how much she just plain liked this guy and how much he just plain liked her.

No, she knew it was all just rebound, all just sex. It had to be. 

But was rebounding always this sweet?

They made coffee in the room and wrapped themselves in towels, and sat out on a postage-stamp-sized porch drinking it and looking out at the bright blue lake, everything so clear and pristine looking, the mountains in sharp, almost touchable focus like they’d never look in LA.

She went back in the room before he did, dropping the towel to reach for her crumpled, still damp dress, when she realized she had no underwear or bra, he’d have to go find them for her in what might very well be a swimming pool of a car.

But he didn’t of course, not just then, because seeing her naked he dropped his towel too, revealing a hugely ready cock, quivering toward her just enough that she had to take it in her hands and lovingly work it until he was within seconds of coming, but held back, lifted her onto the bed and they fell onto it together, just the very edge. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist and he wonderfully impaled her, rocking in and out, and they came together, something she’d never had happen before in her life.

But, after they showered again, and she sucked him again, and he ate her out again, and they were all flushed and sweaty so that the shower seemed hardly worth it at all, she finally put on that damp, wrinkled dress, doing their own rain-wrinkled version of a walk of shame down into the parking garage, where she pulled on her underwear – it was wrinkled but dry, although the carpeting in the car squished under foot. He helped her slip inside it, or didn’t really help, however you wanted to look at it. He had to make sure it was on just right, by rubbing at her clit, and soon the black lace wasn’t quite so dry, and she was grinning ear to ear, she couldn’t help it.

She was so aroused that when he “helped” her put on her bra by sucking each nipple, and rubbing them with the palm of his hand, kind of counter clockwise in a way that made her wild, she felt herself come again.

He knew she had, too, because he pushed those panties aside and had a finger or two inside her again, and they fell into the back seat, hoping no one would come into the garage or maybe not caring if they did.

She was kneeling on the sodden carpet, sucking him yet again, but he was having none of that, he lifted her up, and laid her gently on the back seat, and slipped his dick inside her again, so easily, so slick and easy.

What wasn’t so easy was admitting if they were going to leave, they had to keep their clothes on and stop touching each other and drive to the airport.

They did it, though. 

The rental car company wasn’t exactly thrilled with the condition of the interior of the car, but agreed, after Kate flashed her badge, that the damage was not caused by their negligence but by vehicle maintenance issues which she said was honestly a real safety concern.

Flashing her badge didn’t work as well at the airline ticket counter. Despite Kate’s claim that she was “on duty” and unable to reschedule the previous night’s postponed and that was why they then missed the rescheduled midnight flight, the reservation agent still socked them with a hundred dollar per ticket change fee.

They paid separately for their new tickets and ended up on different flights, several hours apart. Kate’s plane boarded first. He didn’t want to let her go. He pressed her against him right there at the gate, rubbed the small of her back, and lower, lower, slipping his hand under her skirt, concealing her gasp with a long, deep kiss. Kate gave herself up to the moment physically, but she was already steeling herself for departure.

Kate broke from him only at the final call. He gave her his business card, scrawled his cell phone number on the back. She took it, but she didn’t give him hers.

“I think we should keep this a one-time deal,” she said.

He was astonished. “This? What we’ve had? Just once? You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding you,” she said, giving him her best steely eyed cop look.

“That’s not working. That expression. You’re not fooling me.” he was saying, even as she walked away.

“Call me,” he shouted. “Call me tonight, and I’ll take you to dinner. Okay? Call me!”

She didn’t call that night of course. And she never told him her last name or that she worked downtown out of Parker Center, in fact she led him to believe her office was in the Valley, where she’d worked vice when she first made the move to LA. So even if he wanted to call her – but he’d probably changed his mind, the way guys did anyway, he was probably even married or something, that was the way guys were, she’d certainly discovered that first hand – he couldn’t have found her easily. Sure, there was a small part of her that hoped he would find her, though. But it was just a very small part. She was rebounding, that was all.

Still, when she told she had a visitor who needed a guest badge, and he wouldn’t give reception his name, was it entirely unexpected that there he was, standing in Parker Center with a bouquet of yellow roses in one hand, and a kid’s toy Matchbox convertible in the other?

Was it entirely unexpected that she left with him when her shift ended an hour later? 

Rebounding could last awhile.