Okay seriously, I wrote five previous installments. You really want to start here and miss all the parts where we killed the zombies and brought peace to the middle east?
"Okay" I said as I got to the car at the end of the day carrying my over sized purse filled with sunscreen, a tablet and a ton of girl stuff I think I need everyday but sometimes never return to at all, and the dozen roses my so called "Secret Admirer" had sent me that day, "how did you do it?"
"How did I do what?" Brent asked.
"Send me roses from work." I replied with a smile that a hundred cold slaps wouldn't get off my face.
"I thought they were from a secret admirer" He said, grinning as we left the club property.
"Yeah, he's a secret to everyone but me!" I laughed. I had been hit on most of the morning by the usual sun burned golfers who started drinking too early and remembered their dignity too late, but once the roses arrived they shied away and were replaced with gawking women members and female co workers desperate to find out who had sent them, Even Gail, my supervisor, came by for a while to try to gently pry into my affairs, but I gave no hint of knowing from where they came. All the ladies were happy for me though, as nothing makes the white suburban house wife purr like a notion of romance.
"So, how'd you do it? I asked again.
"Really? And you call me dumb." he giggled, holding up his smart phone and a debit card.
"Simple and effective. I like it Secret Agent Anderson." I joked.
This began a trend that lasted all summer and into the college year of leaving each other secret messages of love however we could. It became a game to us. I would find a card from my secret admirer in the cash drawer after a bathroom break, he would get a picture of my boobies from a blocked number that had a note that said "thinking of you" on a sticky between them. This one almost backfired when he didn't recognize me due to the florescent lighting making me look yellowish and thought it was from one of the housewives by the pool, or one of his former girlfriends in our town from before he left for college.
Several of his former romances did show up by the pool that summer and rather than ignore them, he had to be nice lest someone at the club get the idea we were an item. That just couldn't get out in our small suburban community as we had spent the last several years of school in the foster care of the Andersons, a well to do couple who were kind enough to take us in, and who were like parents to both of us. It felt hillbilly enough to us for our romance to blossom as it had after and there was nothing to be gained by dragging the Anderson's good name through what might be perceived as a scandalous affair. We had both come to grips with our attraction as we recognized that we weren't really brother and sister, were both 18 and free to do as we liked, and certainly it was genetically and legally okay, but it still seemed kind of hillbilly so it was best not let it become public knowledge. Ultimately I figured we would have to tell the Andersons, but probably not until I too shipped off to college and we could openly be together many miles away from the prying eyes of country clubs and gated communities.
Still, the surreptitious nature of our relationship was a bit of turn on. I liked having a secret the world didn't know, and it was fun to shoot down the drunks flirting with me at the country club in full view of their wives, the ever increasing number of guys from my old school who "just happened to drop by" to say hello when they never had when we were in class together, and whose eyes never rose above my chest for some reason, while Brent did the same with the golfer's wives and his former lovers. My favorite crew was the Danny Survivors Support Club as I called them, other girls who he had filmed with his smart phone camera to whom I was a hero no less in their eyes than Joan of Arc for kicking his ass and getting my ass suspended in the process. This was one scandal Allison Anderson, my foster mother, was happy to have and prior to leaving on vacation she took great pride in telling all who would hear that her dear Jessie had "taken care of that scoundrel that had defiled her!" The survivors club was worried that Danny had sent me the roses, but Sandy pointed out that she thought he was in the hospital getting his nose rebuilt from where I had kicked him in the face with the cutest little boots any of them could remember seeing, so it was unlikely he was able to send flowers. We had gossiped and chatted all afternoon as they vacillated between the pool, the concession stand I ran, and Brent's life guard chair. Sandy, who I thought looked quite attractive in a bikini that was a bit too risque for suburbia, had asked me to introduce her to Brent as she had heard he was unattached at the moment. I warned her off, telling her he had come home from college in love with some girl and wasn't going to be dating this anyone else this summer.
These were my thoughts as I rode home with Brent that afternoon, and I must have smelled my roses a hundred times on the way. Finally I remembered his text, and asked "So what fantasy are you going to fulfill of mine?"
This had puzzled me, as I didn't recall ever discussing my fantasies with Brent.
"Oh, you'll see. Let's get cleaned up and go out to dinner, unless you feel like cooking." he replied.
"Cryptic. I like that." I smiled, thinking to myself that if his idea of my fantasy was having his dick up my butthole again he was wrong. "No, I don't want to cook, dinner sounds good. Dress casual?"
"Oh sure, whatever you want to wear." he said.
I guess I should say that I can cook, and am pretty good at it from the years of experience I got cooking when my mom was too drunk or stoned or too busy stripping or too busy selling ass to take care of me. This fourth point was what ultimately got me removed from her custody several years before and began the chain of lousy living situations I endured until I landed at the Anderson's just before the start of my junior year in school. But I didn't want to cook and it would be nice to get out of the house for an evening.
We both showered, separately so that wasn't the fantasy, and I put on a mid thigh black denim skirt and a blue sleeveless top that buttoned up the front with a collar. No need for hosiery, and I wore comfy cotton panties (with I think pictures of panda bears on them) as my ass was still a bit too tender still from the pounding last night to wear a thong. My bra didn't match my panties, but it was a comfortable one that perked my already perky C cups up nicely. The real bitch was I never wore much make up or fixed my hair to work by the pool, so I had to basically start at ground zero in the application of junk to my face and hair to "bring out my best" as my foster mother Allison would say.
I went downstairs where Brent was waiting, looking nice in a pair of khakis and a retro tee. We left for a dinner I assumed would be at one of the local restaurants, but instead Brent drove about twenty miles to a neighboring town for dinner at a local meat and three which while good and filling, wasn't any more spectacular than a number of closer places. It was nice being in another town though where no one knew us as I could walk with Brent's arm around me and hold his hand in public.
Next we went to the town's theater where Brent got tickets to an otherwise unimportant romantic comedy with Julia Roberts in it. I thought the fantasy might be something to do with sex in a dark theater for a minute, then remembered this was supposed to be my fantasy and I never had one about that. I considered that maybe he was confusing something some skank at his college had said for something from me, but decided that no, that didn't' feel right. He was enjoying me trying to figure it out too much, like it was a puzzle he had constructed for me to solve.
About an hour in, it was apparent that Julia was going to get her man, and the theater seats were designed with arm rests that lifted up out of the way to let couples sit closer. Oh sure, it was Wednesday, and the theater was practically empty, but it was liberating none the less. The one that would have divided us had been out of the way all night, and I had enjoyed snuggling up against my man brazenly out in the world like we were on a date like any other couple.
"That's it!" I thought to myself, and I believed it was a close race between that and the roses earlier for the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. Just to feel like everyone else, like I fit it, was the best gift Brent could have given me. Maybe he's not as romantically inept as I though. I pulled his arm tighter around me as I lay my head on his shoulder to watch the screen and pay no attention what so ever to the movie. For all I know, Julia got kidnapped by alien shark men. I didn't care. I was on a real date with my boyfriend, and life was perfect.
The movie ended and we walked to the car hand in hand, like a regular couple, although instead of walking I may have skipped a bit, or even floated. Brent had once again made me blissfully happy. "Thanks!" I said at the car as I stood on my tip toes and threw my arms around his neck for our first kiss in a public place.
"You're welcome" He said, "But what are you thanking me for?"
