Chapter 50: Mate

Sorry this one is a day late, folks. I got super busy over here. This time of year is a little hectic at my job and it's probably not going to quiet down until Christmas. But that most assuredly will not stop me from festooning you with this drivel.

So ... last week, Justina took a shower and put on two different outfits before going to bed. Chris walked into his hotel room and discovered Justina standing there in one of those two outfits. GASP. Today: cue the bow chicka wow wows.


Chapter 50: Mate

The present melted away from Chris's conscious mind and the past flooded in.

It was 1986. Chris was in his second year of college at Edmonton University. Memories flashed at him in bits and pieces [is this a flashback within a flashback?]. The way her hair always smelled. The tiny birthmark that looked just like a seahorse on her stomach. Her perfect impression of Professor Cavanaugh. The way she said his name. The warm, passionate, excited sparkles in her hazel eyes when she informed him that this would be The Night [hey now! Where did that come from?!?] How smooth her cheeks were, how firm her lips were, how soft her skin was, the way she could so easily drive him up the wall by kissing his neck, the sweetness of her voice every time she told him she loved him. Her strange obsession with rabbits [huh?]. Everything they had been through ran through his mind in a half-second.

“My God,” she whispered, feeling the same wave of memories wash over her.

“Tina? Foss?”

“You remember my nicknames?” [they’re not exactly far from your actual name, lady]

“Do bunnies hop?” [oh wow]

“Oh, Chris!”

They ran toward each other and embraced.

“Been too long, Foss.”

“Your biceps got bigger.”

“That’s not the only thing.” [oh WOW.]

“Your mind?”

“Noooo.”

“Hmm, say, what is that in your pocket.” [I didn’t. Oh, I did.]

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

“Same old conversation. You haven’t forgotten?” she asked as they drew apart.

“Forget? It’s only been what … ten years?”

“Damn. Oh, Christopher. I’ve thought about you so much.”

“Me too, Foss. You look as stunning as ever.” [especially seeing as how she’s wearing a lavender negligee. Why isn’t she frantically trying to put on pants? Shoot, if I ran into an old college boyfriend like this I’d be … well, in the case of 90% of them, I’d be trying to find an object to use as a bludgeoning instrument … but for the other 10%, I’d be frantically searching for pants.]

“Flattery got you everywhere.”

“I’d like to think it was more than flattery.”

“Mmm … maybe.”

“You’re still using the same shampoo.”

“I swear by it.”

“I remember.”

“What else do you remember?”

“Everything.”

“Like what?”

“Well … I remember how gorgeous you were.”

“Were!?!”

“And still are, Tina dear.”

“You look good enough to eat, my little love-rabbit.” [oh WOW. I haven’t been this embarrassed by my own writing for several chapters now. This is painful.]

“Really?”

“Really. Hmmm …”

“What?”

“I wonder … do you still have that one tickle spot?”

“Uhh … no.”

“I think I’ll have to test for myself.” Justina removed her hands from his and moved them slowly to both of his sides. Before he could push them away, she began working her fingers underneath his ribcage until his chuckles gave way to giggles, which gave way to peals of laughter.

“Stop! Please!” He begged, trying to gulp air.

“Do you admit the unrelenting superiority of the Edmonton Oilers over the Bruins?” [see, they’re Canadian. They obviously like hockey.]

“Yes! Yes! Please just stop!”

“Uhmmmm … ok.” She withdrew and let Chris alone. He fell onto the bed, giggling and wheezing, eyes streaming. She knelt next to him.

“You know what I remember?”

“Ugh?” he grunted.

“How tense the muscles in your back got.” She removed his shirt and pushed the heels of her hands into the taut flesh of his lower back, kneading and rubbing her way up to his neck and back down again.

“Oooh. I haven’t felt like this in …”

“Ten years?”

“Exactly.”

“Poor Chris. Too long. Nobody’s massaged you?”

“Not like that.”

“Well then … has anyone done this?” She lightly kissed his ear, along his jawbone, his collar [uhm, did he put his shirt back on?]. She then pressed her lips onto his and enveloped him in a long, beautiful kiss. That burst of memory was too much for him – he wanted nothing more than to make love to her now.


NOTES:

1) Woah, nelly! Way to get all racy here, young me! Let’s see, judging by the notes in the margin (i.e., I <3 PEDRO), I was dating my first “real boyfriend” when I wrote this (incidentally, Pedro broke up with me after a month. It was right before spring break and he told me that he had to move back to Puerto Rico. I was heartbroken, but what could I do? Fate was tearing us apart. Then I saw him at school after break was over. It was then that I discovered that he was a pathological liar who also apparently had problems with planning for future inevitabilities. Other than that, he was a nice guy.) Please do note that I was nowhere close to achieving the level of bedroom activity described in this chapter, and am thus mildly surprised that although the dialogue is completely inane, no one does anything incredibly weird, like sticking a tongue directly into an ear canal, for example.

2) So Violet’s plan has succeeded, huh? ENDGAME! Who would have thunk it? I wonder if this will satisfy her, or if she and Felicia will continue to harass Angel for no obvious reason.

COMING UP NEXT …

Scott Steiner calls Angel to ramble about how happy he is with Justina. Scott does indeed ramble. Angel says stupid things. Anvils threaten to flatten every character, but alas, only figuratively. I promise the one after this is slightly more interesting, but first we must suffer through …

CHAPTER 51: In the Dark