Connor was having that dream again. When he entered his apartment, she was bent over the dining room table, naked and waiting for him. Her arousal was apparent and she was giving him the sexiest grin.
Opening his eyes, he groaned. The sky outside was overcast, yet the room seemed too bright. When he tried to sit up, he was hit with a brick wall, or at least that's how it felt. His body was like a ton of lead and there was an accountant running an extremely loud register in his brain.
"God," he said aloud, his voice scratchy and hoarse. "I really need to stop drinking."
He swung his legs over to the side to rest them heavily on the floor. His mind, however clouded it appeared to be at the moment, was still trying to process the events of last night when he drunkenly bared his soul to Angie.
He rose unsteadily to make his way to the bathroom. Glancing at his reflection, he winced. "I look like shit," he noted. His reddish-brown curls were disheveled and sticking up at odd angles on his head. Gazing at the mirror through bloodshot blue eyes, he noticed the severe case of scruff inhabiting the lower half of his face. "Ugh."
Connor turned on the shower, letting the hot water run before stepping in and allowing the steamy spray to wash the indiscretions of last night from his body.
Connor didn't regret what he said. In fact, he was proud of himself for saying everything that seemed too difficult to put into words before. He just wished that he didn't reveal all while under the influence of some very powerful whiskey.
Grabbing the bar of sandalwood soap from the dish, he lathered the soap and began to rub the scented concoction all over his body.
Lathering his hair, his mind drifted to last night. Angie seemed genuinely shocked about his confession, but he could tell there was something else there. Like maybe she was expecting him to say something like that. Maybe she had been waiting for him all this time.
"Way to step up Gavin," he said aloud. Grinning, he thought about how she felt in his arms last night, her soft curves pressed against the hard line of his muscular frame. He felt himself growing hard imagining the kiss they would have shared, his hands roaming her curves.
Painfully erect, his hand gripped his aching member, now pulsating with desire. He stroked his shaft slowly. In his mind, Angie was on her knees in front of him, taking his size slowly into her waiting mouth. He groaned as he felt her fingers cup his balls.
Connor pumped his cock quicker now, his movements spurred on by the dirty words he wanted to whisper in her ear. His balls tightened as he felt the familiar build-up in his stomach. As he came, he groaned her name.
Connor rested his arm on the cool tile, leaning his forehead on his slick arm to catch his breath. He allowed his breathing to return to normal as his heartbeat slowed down.
Thinking, he grinned. That's the last time I'm ever doing that. Next time, it's going to be the real thing.
"I'm going to make her scream."
*****************************
Angie yawned loudly. She glanced at the clock. 9:30. Smiling, she was glad she called out from work earlier. A three-day weekend was exactly what she needed, especially after last night.
Last night, when Connor dropped the drunken bomb of love on her; it was so shocking, and yet it didn't surprise her. Angie surmised that having the news officially out in the open made it seem so real. Things were rapidly getting intense.
First the situation with Charlie, and now Connor. It was all becoming too much. Part of Angie wished that things would go back to normal, for Charlie to be in California living a distant existence, and for Connor just to be her best friend.
And then, there was another side. The part of her that was slowly taking over. The part that was intrigued by Connor's declaration. His words struck something inside of her, and she didn't want to admit it, but his words made her hot.
She knew Connor could get a little pig-headed when it came to getting his way. When they were sixteen and Connor wanted his own car, his parents refused because they didn't think he was responsible. She remembered his determination to prove them wrong, getting an after-school job working in a garage while keeping his GPA steady. By the end of that semester he was driving around an old '85 Mustang.
He was so proud of himself. The ferocity of his words came back to her, making her blush. He was so sure that he was going to win her affection.
She wasn't going to stop him if he tried.
*****************************
Three weeks later...
Angie bustled around her kitchen. Tonight was the night of her annual Christmas party. Taking the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, she was slightly startled by the knock on her door. "It's open!" she cried.
"Hey baby," a voice called. Angie looked up and smiled.
"Hey yourself, Charles." Standing up straight, she set the tray of cookies on the counter and began lifting them from the baking sheet to a holly red plate. She lifted her cheek as he kissed it softly.
"You look really good," he said. He kissed her other cheek before planting a firm kiss on her lips. She was wearing a short grey denim skirt, a gold cashmere sweater, and grey sweater boots.
"Thanks, so do you" she said. Charlie placed his hands on her ample cheeks.
"Damn, girl why don't you and I go into the back and you can give me my present?"
Angie laughed, pushing him away. "Shut up, I need to get this all finished so I won't have much to do tonight." She eyed him. He looked good in his black dress slacks and grey button down shirt.
Charlie sighed dramatically. "Okay, Ange. What else needs to be done?"
"Well the cookies are done, the cheesecake is finished, and the rest of dinner is taken care of. I just need you to taste the eggnog and see if it's all good."
Charlie dipped a ladle into the glass punch bowl, scooping a small dose of the creamy concoction. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a sip and coughed slightly. "Oh man," he sputtered. "Did you raid Lindsay Lohan's alcohol stash?"
Angie laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment, dick."
The door knocked again. "Oh crap, that's the company." She removed the red and green apron from around her waist. Smoothing down her short grey denim skirt, she walked through the hallway to the front door.
"Who is it?" Angie asked.
"The mailman, who else?" a cheery voice replied.
Smiling, Angie opened the door and was almost thrown off her feet by her slightly smaller doppelganger. "Angela!" Roxie squealed.
Angie wrapped her arms around her sister. "Rox, I missed you so much." She stepped out of the embrace, looking at her sister. Her raven hair was a bit longer, now with deep brown undertones. Her brown skin positively glowed with excitement and what Angie supposed was the love for a good man.
"Damn Kiddo, I think you've put on a little weight," she remarked, looking at her sister's frame. Roxie was always a little curvy, they both were; but now she looked even hotter. Her ass was a little rounder, her breasts a bit bigger, and she seemed to be happier.
Roxie laughed. "That's what happens when you get a man. You'll see."
"Speaking of, where is Mr. Wiseass?"
"Right here," called Dex. He was coming in behind his wife, his arms laden with wrapped presents and gift bags. "Hello there sis," he said, kissing Angie on the cheek.
Angie grabbed him in a hug. Shrugging off his coat, Dex turned to her. "You look good, Angie."
Roxie laughed and punched him playfully in the arm. "Stop trying to pick up my sister, jerk."
"Kitten, you know the only one I want is you. No offense Angie. I hope you can carry on."
Angie laughed. "I think I'll manage, Dex." Ushering them inside, Roxie sat on the couch. She looked grown up in her beige cashmere sweater and camel-colored soft leather pants.
"Where's Charlie?" she asked, her eyes bright.
