25 - Fast Forward and Rewind

Jon’s smile lit up the hallway and his still sleepy eyes when he picked her up for the airport on Thursday morning.   “You ready, Kitten?” he asked, leaning in to brush a familiar kiss across her lips. 

The touch of his mouth thrilled her just as much now as it had on that unexpected visit five days ago.  If anything, the new level of intimacy lent it a different kind of thrill.

“Just let me grab my jacket.” 

He stepped inside and grabbed her overnight bag while she shrugged into her coat.  Taking a last look around the apartment to ensure that everything was secure for a long weekend, she nodded with satisfaction and picked up the white bakery box from the counter. 

“Ready.”

Standing back, he allowed her to exit in front of him and, with his hand on the doorknob, lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.  “Got your keys?”

She patted her purse with a nod, and he secured the door while she called the elevator.  “You look tired,” she observed, using a gentle fingertip to trace laugh lines at the corner of his left eye. 

“I didn’t have a sexy body enticing me to crawl in bed last night.  I stayed up later than I should have.”

The elevator heralded its arrival with a discreet ‘ding’, and they boarded the car, Jon tapping the button for the lobby.   Last night had been the only one this week that he wasn’t in her bed. 

Both had wanted to ensure their respective homes were secure for an absence.  Jon could do that at a moment’s notice, but Sheridan needed the distraction-free time to make sure she was comfortable everything had been taken care of.

Jon offered the doorman a nod, as did she, and then passed her bag over to the driver before ushering her into the back of the black sedan.  Nodding to the bakery box that she protectively settled into the set next to her, he asked, “Richie’s?”

She nodded, smiling when he laced their fingers together and rested them on his thigh.  It had been part of her holiday baking for the week.

Tuesday evening, the doorbell rang while she was up to her elbows in flour and molasses.   She knew that Jon would be coming over, so she’d left the locks on the door open to simply call out, “Come on in, Jon,” instead of dusting herself off and still covering the door in cookie baking staples.

“Hey.  Something smells good.”

“Hey, yourself.  Molasses cookies, probably.”

The immediate perking of his ears was comical.  “Cookies, huh?  Are they any good?”

“You tell me.  There’s some cooling on the counter.”

“Oh, Godddd,” he mumbled around the first mouthful.  “That’s fantastic.  What else are you making?”

She laughed at the little-boy rapture in his eyes.  “Fudge, chocolate covered pretzels, some other sweets…  I was thinking of making some extra to take along as a gift for Richie.  Do you have any suggestions as to what he might like?”

After their recent talks about doughnuts and pastries and eating them from ‘honey’ covered places, Jon knew what would be perfect for his friend.

“Oh Richie’s into pastries.  Any kind, really, but he particularly likes the ones coated with honey.”

To that end, she dusted off the xerotigana recipe she hadn’t used in ages.  She discovered the spiral, honey covered Greek pastries on a trip to Crete over a decade ago, and it had been nearly that long since she’d gone to the trouble of making them.  They turned out pretty well if she did say so herself, and would make a perfect host gift for Jon’s friend.

Jon touched his lips to the back of her hand with a smile.  He could not fucking wait to see the look on Richie’s face when he opened that box.  Encouraging Sheridan to make the pastries tweaked at his conscience, but what he’d told her was true.  Richie liked pastries.  It was just a happy coincidence that his culinary affection had been made into a Confucius moment lately.  He hoped his buddy would hold to his promise and be on his best manners.

“Hey, Rich,” he greeted his guitarist on Tuesday morning while Sheridan was at her Trouser Tom massage class.  He still didn’t like the guy, sight unseen, but what was he going to do?  Be a whiny shit and pout about her going?  No.  Although he would have enjoyed escorting her to class and making it perfectly clear to Tom – Rick, whatever the limey fucker’s name was –  that Sheridan belonged to him. 

“Yo, bro.  What’s up?”

“I’m bringing a date to your party, if that’s cool.”

Richie snorted.  “Hell, yeah, it’s cool, but I didn’t  see that one coming.  Who’s the lucky lady that will be sleeping in my bed?”

“Your guest bed, dumbass.  Don’t be playing the poacher card.  As a matter of fact, I want you to promise to be on your best behavior – and give us the room furthest away from yours.”

Unruly laughter rang over the phone line, as he’d suspected it would.  Richie was gonna have a field day once he found out this wasn’t just a girl, it was a girlfriend.  This would be the first time since the divorce that his friend had met one of Jon’s women.  The first time in years. 

“Why?  Because you’re afraid she’ll be drawn by the scent of my overwhelming pheromones?  Or because you wanna use my place as a sexual playground?  Should I have a trapeze installed before you get here?”

Jon gave that one a wide berth, even as a contemplative smile curled one corner of his mouth.  He wondered how Sheridan would feel about some ‘extras’.   That would be something to talk about over dinner.

“What the fuck ever.  Be nice to her, but not too nice. And remember that the whole ‘secrets to the grave’ thing isn’t just a lyric.  No talking out of school.”

“What the hell?  I’m getting instructions on how to act around a woman?  Something you wanna tell me, Kidd?”

It would’ve been easiest to spit it out all up front, but he and Richie had this mutual chain-yanking relationship that they’d indulged in for almost thirty years.  There was a balance to things, and he couldn’t just go upsetting the balance by announcing he had a girlfriend. 

“You know damn good and well what I’m telling you.”

The knowing chuckle was slow to come, but come it did.  “Well, well, well.  Whaddaya know?  Jonny’s got a girlfriend for the first time since 1988.  I can’t wait to meet the woman with the sexual bag of tricks that would pull you off the street so soon after parole.”

“You will not bring up sex with her.”

“Oh, I won’t have to,” he assured in his best super-villain voice.  “Sex will fill the air as soon as she walks in.  I’m taking bets on that.”

Jon tugged on his right pant leg, stealing a furtive look at the beautiful woman whose black denim thigh was nestled against his.  Casually dressed for travel, she was wearing a short leather jacket that matched her jeans and boots, and one of those soft sweaters with the big, droopy neckline.  It was a crayon green several shades brighter than her eyes, and made her lightly made-up eyes shine more vividly.  Her only jewelry today was a pair of diamond studs glittering in earlobes left exposed by her loosely pinned-up hair.   

He was still having trouble reconciling the two Sheridans - this classically elegant beauty and his wild-eyed sex kitten.  Both appealed to him on two totally different levels.  

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“If I told you no, would you say it again?” she fished shamelessly, unable to stifle the smile or the warm glow of pleasure his soft question brought.  The sentiment was nice, but it was the wonder in his eyes that did it for her.  Almost like he was surprised to hear the words coming from his mouth.    

“Probably.  If you tell me what you’re wearing under that sweater.”  The sexy wink had her toes curling inside her boots.  Would she ever get enough of him? 

“The purple.  It’s Richie’s favorite color, right?”

“Brat!” he growled, twisting to nip at her jaw.  “You’re still beautiful, but a brat.”

Sheridan recoiled, protecting the finally-blemish-free skin of her neck with a quiet giggle.  The truth was, he had told her once, earlier this week.  But the circumstances were totally different, and it hadn’t carried nearly the same impact. 

“Hey.  Let’s go in here.”

Warily eyeing the Agent Provocateur sign, Sheridan took a deep breath and agreed.  The time spent together on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday had provided this new ‘thing’ of theirs with a solid foundation in her mind.  She was feeling as comfortable with him on the couch or in the kitchen as she did in the bedroom, so this didn’t seem like too far out in left field.

That was how they came to be shopping in the ‘underwear place’, as Jon called it, just down the block from his building.   It was a spur-of-the-moment Wednesday afternoon visit, prompted by the window display that caught his eye on their way to his condo.    The frothy scraps reminded him of the promise he made to build Sheridan’s stockpile of lacy lingerie.

“Funny, these things don’t carry the same punch as they do when you’re wearing them.”  The pink lace and elastic dangling from his fingertips sent a four alarm fire through Sheridan.  The undeniably feminine panties in his masculine hands created an erotic contrast.

“That’s probably a good thing,” she remarked, placing a cool hand against her flaming cheek.  “Otherwise you might develop an unhealthy obsession with this place.  Then your all-American boy image would be shot.”

He dropped it back onto the table.  “Good point.  I’ve decided I like the way you do things, anyway – with the conservative beauty on the outside.  It makes what’s underneath even more… effective.”

And, after extensive deliberation and a mandatory fashion show, he proceeded to enhance that effectiveness with the purchase of half a dozen outlandishly priced lingerie sets adorned with fur, ribbon, lace and silk. 

That was the first time Jon called her beautiful.  It wasn’t the first time he made her feel that way, but it was the first time he said it.  He made her feel that way every time he looked at her body with hot appreciation.  Every time he couldn’t keep his hand from touching her in some way, she felt desirable. 

It was working.  Whatever plan he’d hatched to earn her trust, it was working. 

She was starting to feel like she mattered to him.