Aerial

The Twenty-Fourth Chapter

Oops, did I forget to tell you I had two chapters for you? ;)

The neon sign hanging above the sensually lit diner illuminates one letter at a time in succession until the whole name of the establishment is displayed in glorious electric violet cursive, blinking once in unison as if to announce its magnificence before it bleaches to start the process all over again.

Temptations.

Harry was tight-lipped about your destination for the entire working day and the whole drive here, his lips rolling into his mouth each time you would ask or attempt to slyly make him slip. You had missed being inside of his van; the warm glow and the warmhearted mileage, each corner of the interior smelling positively of his cotton candy cigarettes and his essence, records spinning and the windows down as Frank Sinatra's mugshot tapped back and forth in the ocean breeze, his hand tucked into the sensitive spot between your thighs following each gear shift. And you had a feeling it'll be something you fondly revisit in your mind for years and years to come.

When he picked you up from your duplex, you both stood star-struck in your doorway as your gazes locked and then slipped into a leaden head-to-toe crawl. You had originally assumed that he would dress up and wear another suit like he had to Chubby's, but in all of his characteristic glory, he'd managed once again to surprise you with the obvious. A casual, loose-fitting white button down tucked into high-waisted plaid trousers, all cinched to perfection with a pair of black suspenders and polished off with his leather jacket, his trademark curl swept to the side and winding around his temple.

Nettie had agreed to take you shopping when you got home from work, so long as you swore that you would blindly trust her and you're glad that you did. As soon as Harry made contact with your tight, taffy pink trousers and matching thin, cropped angora sweater, he ducked his head and sank his teeth into your neck, his stomach tossing and tossing and tossing when you lamented about his rough handling. His fingertips brushed the modest strip of bare skin across your stomach before tip-toeing under the hem of your top, each baby step of his hand pulling on your core as he muttered, "pink? For me? I'm gonna be a wreck all fuckin' night, Cherrywood. No way I'm keepin' my hands to myself." And you swore you could taste his mellow exhale when he slowly whispered against your lips, "you're all mine now. And I think that's jus' what you wanted."

The parking lot sprawls and unfurls like a red carpet towards the entrance of Temptations, jam-packed with a medley of hot rods neatly slipped into spots side-by-side like a living art gallery. A cacophony of music plays from their open windows; girls dolled up in bright patterns perched on top of their hoods and boys talking loudly with one another, couples kissing and couples shamelessly flirting. Punchy, pigmented rainbow smoke corkscrews into the air above everyone's heads and gracefully evaporates into the unflinching sky.

The scene laid out before you seems to mushroom as you take it all in, Harry's arm draping around your neck in a protective clasp as he navigates you through the throng of people to the door that's adorned with more neon signage. A lusty mouth with teeth sinking into the bottom lip, a vinyl sticker adhered to the glass below it that reads, "don't worry, it only seems kinky the first time."

"Get with the words."

His prompt snakes into your ear and suddenly you realize just how much the words on the door affected you, how much they sound like something that would flick off the end of Harry's tongue, how he's managed to immerse himself in a world that perfectly suits his personality trait of one big, double entendre. Or maybe you've just been sheltered from reality for much too long. One corner of Harry's mouth pulls into a simper when he finally pulls you from your rapt thoughts, your attention drawn from the perfect lips on the door to the perfect lips on your date, "I'm sorry, what?"