The Artist & The Q.B.

Ch. 9

"What else do you need?" He questions, seriously.

I roll my eyes, "I need you to talk to your sister. She feels that we laugh and goof around more than they do together. And if two people, like us, who have nothing in common are laughing and having a good time together. Then, her relationship with someone she gets along with and have loads in common with is doomed."

"Solid argument." He agrees.

"Not helpful." I say, pointing at him.

"I'll talk to her, but I doubt she'd listen." He states, not getting off of the bed. I really want to hurt him.

"Go!" I yell, pointing at the door.

He gets up slowly and walks to the door. "Wait, we didn't discuss what I'd get in return."

"I won't bash your skull in. How's that sound?" I reply, irritated.

It seems like seconds after the door closes he's back. "What happened?" I ask.

"I don't want to talk about it." He replies, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?"

"Tate's here." He answers.

"And?"

"They're not talking." He states, simply.

Confused I ask, "Then what-? Oh...Well, thats good." I say, realizing they must be going at it. "Disaster avoided!" I yell, happily. Holding my hand up for a high-five, he ignores my raised arm like the plague. "What's with you? Too good for a high-five?" I taunt.

"High-fives are for friends."

"Well, excuse me. We can't be friends?" I say, slightly offended.

"Nope."

A little shocked I ask, "Why not?"

"Because, I want to sleep with you." He explains, causally.

I laugh, uncomfortably. "That's not going to happen." I state, with absolute certainty.

He shrugs. "Let get something to eat."

"Isn't your mom going to be here soon?" I remind him.

He looks at his phone. "Twenty-minutes." He mutters and starts to text her. Leaving me to think about his words. So much for pretending I don't know he wants to sleep with me. Lost in thought I feel him shake my shoulder.

    I shrug him off, turning to face him. "I wanted to ignore that fact that you want to sleep with me. Can we just go back in time five minutes and pretend you didn't say that?"

He looks at me for a couple seconds and shakes his head. "No."

"Well, I'm going to pretend anyway." I tell him, stubbornly.

"I'll just remind you." He says, leaning in close and looking into my eyes. "Constantly." He adds.

After his mother Debbie and boyfriend Ed show up at the hotel we go to dinner at a fancy place. Luckily, I packed a nice simple back dress and ankle boots. Since we left the room Truex has had a great time reminding me, just what he wants. I hit Truex's hand away for the hundredth time in the last hour.

"Truex." I warn, silently. He doesn't listen and I feel his hand move up my thigh. I try to pay attention to Debbie, who is telling us how excited her and Ed are to go wedding dress shopping tomorrow. Also, how proud she will be to see Truex on television getting his award.

"Television?" I ask, stunned fighting Truex's exploring hand.

"Of course! And he's going to look so handsome in his tux. Did you write a speech, tootle-bear?" She questions, excitedly. "Can we hear it?"

"No, I haven't." He answers, wincing at his nickname.

I turn to him. "Its televised?"

He nods, smirking. "Yes."

I take a deep cleansing breath and it does nothing, I'm still angry.

When I feel his hand move even higher I let it, narrowing my eyes at him I lean over whispering in his ear, "You have no idea who you're messing with."

    I kiss his cheek lightly before sitting back in my chair and slide my hand over to the front of his pants, stroking him. He sits up straighter in more ways than one, and I smile smugly. I take a bite of my sea bass, not at all concerned about what I'm doing to him.

"Tootle-bear? Are you okay, you look flushed?" Debbie asks, worried. "Oh, no! I hope its not that flu going around." His hand traps my smaller one and I let him.

Looking up at him innocently. "You're right he does look a little hot under the collar. A fever maybe?"

"We should get you back so you can rest." Debbie states, firmly. She looks around for our waiter, wanting to settle the check.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about the speech." He lies, taking a drink of his water.

Debbie scoffs in disbelief. "You've never been nervous a day in your life."

"Deb, he's up for multiple awards. He has to be a little nervous. Leave the boy alone." Ed comments, still eagerly eating.

Debbie and Ed start to bicker back and forth. Truex looks at me and I smile in amusement. "You've made your point." He says, releasing my hand but not removing it.

"Happy to hear it. Kindly remove your hand from under my dress." I reply, quietly so only he can hear. He shakes his head slightly, as his fingers start to trace the outline of my panties. Smirking as my eyes go wide in alarm.

"The only problem with your plan is not anticipating how much I'd like it." He comments, arching into my hand. I clench my legs together as I feel myself get wet. I need a plan, but I can hardly think as he continues to touch me through my underwear. I cough to cover an involuntary moan and look up at him. His face is complete concentration as he watches what he's doing to me play out on my face.

"I hope your sister is feeling better." Debbie comments. "Briar, are you excited about tomorrow?"

Truex's finger picks up speed and I nod. Trying to think of a simi-intelligent response. "Yes, I just hope she finds one she likes." I squeak out, not trusting my voice.

Debbie looks confused. "Not dress shopping. The award show." She clarifies.

"Oh...yes." I answer, covering my mouth with my napkin as I come apart in my chair, trying to maintain a level of decency. My breathing is a little ragged as I say, "A little nervous too, I guess." I pick up my water glass and take a small sip. "He didn't tell me it was televised." I explain.