I had changed into jeans and a T shirt, and padding quietly into the kitchen poured some coffee and sat down across from Rachel.
She was still in her red nightgown, barefoot, reading the paper. It was a radiantly sunny day, and the light shone in through the kitchen window over her shoulder as she looked up and smiled, before turning to her paper again.
I interrupted the silence with, "Can I have some?"
"Huh." She looked up.
I flushed with her eyes suddenly on me.
"The paper."
She handed me a random stack that lay beside what she was reading.
It's funny when you are thinking about something that you are not going to talk about with someone, you cannot think of anything else to say. AND you can NOT stop thinking about what you are not going to say.
I kept glancing at her in that red nightgown, imagining her as she sat, her legs parted slightly. No panties. Her bare pussy pressing into the chair. I could not get the image out of my mind. Her hair was still disheveled. No words would come to me. So, I silently read along with her.
After about five minutes she set the paper down, and taking her mug in her hand rose to the coffee pot, saying as she went, "I'm thinking of going shopping again today."
She said it to no one in particular, and I could not see her as she spoke, though I was the only one in the room.
She came back into view, "You probably don't want to do that anymore, huh?"
I didn't.
"No. Not, Not really."
"S'ok. I thought maybee," a hint of pleading in her voice.
"Sorry."
She took on a matter of fact tone, "What are YOUR plans then?" I could sense a touch of frustration.
"Well, I think I might just wrap what I got yesterday for the tree and clean the house, maybe go for a run. YOU could help you know."
She looked around like she hadn't noticed it was dirty. "Oh yeah, we are supposed to do that aren't we? I don't like cleaning in the morning."
"Or the afternoon or evening either."
"We going to get in another fight?" She said it playfully, but making her point.
I caught myself.
I do do that? I was filled with these mean rejoinders, 'Snippy' was the word she had used. I recalled that I probably did the same thing with Diane.
"Was that snippy?"
Looking at me she touched her nose, "And parental, And . . "
"I get the idea." I picked up my cup to walk into the living room.
"Don't go. Tell me about this new girlfriend of yours."
I hadn't really mentioned it?
I turned again and sat down, "Diane?"
"That her name? You hadn't told me." She repeated it, stretching out the pronunciation the way she does, so it came out, "Di--ane. You already call her today?"
"Yes. How did you know?" I kept looking at her nightgown.
"I figured you would. If I were someones NEW girlfriend and we were apart for the first time I'd want him to call me. It's sweet that you did, a whole side of you. I figured."
She looked up at me, and caught my eye. A wink? Indecipherable. I looked into her eyes and then away.
"You should go shopping with me. I don't want to go alone."
"I really don't want to."
She smiled her broad full smile at me, "I can make it, worth your while."
I froze. My heart caught in my throat. I didn't want to say anything. Had she heard my conversation with Diane? That was Diane's exact phrase.
I was measured, not sure what to say. She had been downstairs the whole time hadn't she? It was a coincidence.
"Meaning?"
Rachel just shrugged, looking at me expectantly.
I felt a trembling come over me, my fingers tingling as I stared down at Rachel seated in that little red nightgown, looking up at me as I simply replied, "Ok."
It represented a sort of compliance, or complicity. She had to know what I was thinking when I said 'ok,' but what was meant by 'making it worth my while?' We had kissed last night, twice, and here she was in that little nightgown, probably no panties on underneath.
My heart was pounding as she rose from her chair once again and began to walk out of the kitchen, smoothing that nightgown over her body as she walked.
All I had done was say I would go shopping.
What had she implied? What had she heard? I tried to clear my head.
When next I noticed, she was gone. I heard her calling, "Ill go get ready. We can clean up later."
I called out, "Ok. I'll wait for you here."
I could see her bounding up the stairs from where I was sitting. The fabric of her nightgown dipping up between her legs right at her ass with each step.
Fuck.
---------------
I was carrying packages again, schlepping from shop to shop. Not a single store I found interesting in the entire Mall. It is just awful. There were at least eighty stores here, and I swear not a single one of them sold even one useful thing.
Nothing.
Just belts and shoes and makeup and clothes and bangles and wireless telephone services.
Rachel was wearing this really cute cream colored dress that was tight at her waist and flowing around her legs to just above the knees. It had a V in front that accentuated both her delicate shoulders and breasts. Beautiful.
She was in a really good mood, and I had resolved myself not to be snippy.
We did not go in to a sit-down place for lunch, I was pretty insistent about getting back home, but not in a mean way. She was also more accommodating, and not ignoring everything I had to say, the way she does.