I've reworked my necktie at least three times. I may not wear suits often, but I damned well am adept at ties as a general rule. "Fuck." I undo it once again, my hands trembling, and stare back at myself in the mirror. "Why the hell are you so nervous? It's a date. Dinner. Dancing. Delilah." I grin, like a teenager. Yeah. Delilah. My Delilah. I go for another attempt at the noose around my neck and nail it this time. One step back and I check myself out. Trendy dark blue suit, lighter blue shirt, and a crimson tie. My hair is gelled, I've trimmed the scruff and dabbed on a little cologne. Looking good, if I do say so.
My mind drifts to what Delilah will be wearing. She's beautiful no matter what. I glance at my watch. It's too early to head over to her place, as much as I'd like to. Perhaps a small bit of whiskey will calm me. Not enough to do any damage. I pour a small swallow and down it. The smooth burn as it slides down my throat makes me feel more alive. Glancing around the apartment, I frown. I hate this place. I want to move back in with Delilah. Except, if we get that far anytime soon, hitting the sheets in the bed she shared with my brother might be an issue. For both of us. That thought makes me start pacing. Jesus. Is everything we do gonna be in the shadow of John?
"Yeah. It is, asshole. You knew that going in. Now you're in. Deal with it. And, for fuck's sake quit pacing. You're wearing out the carpet." With a loud grunt, I stuff my wallet in my pants and grab the keys. I'm outta here. If I have to sit and wait for D to get ready, fine. I fire off a quick text telling her I'm headed that way, and I'll let myself in. She replies with a thumbs up. Good. Ding. Another text. This one a red heart. Aww, man I love this woman.
We live close enough to each other that I could walk, but we're taking my car tonight, so I drive the couple of blocks and snag a spot right in front of the building. When I step into the condo, music is blaring, and Delilah is singing along from her room. She's actually very good. Like a Greek siren luring me in, I can't resist following her voice. The bedroom door is open, so I step in. Fully dressed, she stands in front of the bathroom mirror fussing with her hair and makeup. I stand in the doorway, admiring the view from across the room. The devil on my shoulder is urging me to come up behind her and bury my nose and mouth on her neck. Start kissing and don't stop. For a moment I close my eyes. I can even smell her. Put a blindfold on me and I could tell which girl in a lineup was Delilah by her scent alone.
"Oh! Hi. Didn't hear you come in."
Her words pull me out of the stupor I'm in as I lean against the door frame staring at her, hands in my pockets. My focus shifts from fantasy to real life. Wow. Just, wow. All that golden glorious hair is swirled on top of her head in a sexy, messy up-do. Little tendrils nip at her neck. Delilah doesn't wear much makeup, and when she does, it's masterfully subtle. Her blue eyes pop like gems beneath long, dark, natural lashes. Nothing worse, in my opinion, than those awful fake clumps a lot of chicks wear. Her lips are brushed in a rich plum color that accentuates their pouty fullness, and screams for me to kiss, bite, and lick them. A long, graceful neck leads to a simple black dress. Simple, yet sexy. It clings to her curves perfectly, her tits high, round, and no doubt a soft handful, a peek of them swelling above the scooped neckline of the dress. While it hugs her waist and hips, it's not obscenely tight. The material falls to a respectable mid-thigh length, where toned, tanned legs capture my attention next. I'm fucking hard as a rock, and all I can think about is how good those legs would be wrapped around my hips while I hammer my dick into her, both hands full of tits, and my mouth exploring that neck. For sure I'm grinning like a wolf going in for the kill.
"You're stunning, D-doll. Please tell me you're ready to go, because I'm about two seconds away from ravishing every damned inch of you." No lie.
She clears her throat. "I'm ready."
Yeah, babe. So am I. So. Am. I.
Hand-in-hand we head out.
I chose the five-star steakhouse restaurant atop a glamorous high-rise downtown LA hotel for a reason. Sunset. In all their glory, LA sunsets are incredible. As daytime fades to night in the city, millions of lights twinkle like stars below. Tonight is supposed to be a full moon, as well. I booked a table with the best view, going so far as to come to the restaurant and physically select the one I wanted. I also pre-ordered a fine bottle of champagne. I'm a beer and whiskey guy, but tonight I'm going all out.
Delilah blinks at me as the waiter pops the cork and pours our drinks.
"Delilah, baby. I want the first memory of us to be perfect. Many people won't understand this thing between us. They don't need to. As long as we get it and it makes us happy, to hell with them. Me? I'm gonna do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your face and show you how much you mean to me. That includes facing off with any assholes who have a stupid opinion of what's right or wrong where our relationship is concerned. I've said it. I love you, Delilah. All the way. I'll spend the rest of my days proving it."
Picking up my flute I tap against hers and we seal the deal with a sip of champagne.
"That's quite the statement of commitment, there JD." Her smile is shy smile and damned cute.
"Yes."
****
The evening couldn't have gone better. I pray I'm not about to ruin it. We're sitting close together on the sofa in Delilah's condo, she's got a glass of wine, and I'm drinking a beer. I'm a nervous wreck because there are two things that need addressing here at the outset. We've cleared the biggest hurdle—John's approval and any guilty feelings that might have been associated with that. But, now? Whelp, here goes...
"D-doll, I have a couple of things to ask you about. I should probably wait until tomorrow, but we might as well deal with them."
Her body tenses, and she tilts her head to the side to glance over at me, frowning. "This sounds promising." With a deep breath and sip of wine she says, "Okay, go ahead."
"First is your parents. In all of our discussions, neither one of us brought them up. They loved John and they barely know me. To them, I'm going to come off like a bastard scoundrel. We'll handle that any way you feel comfortable. As long as I'm by your side when we do. I want to get your Dad's tongue lashing out of the way so we can move on." I pause. "Uh, does he own a gun?"
Delilah bursts out laughing. "Nope. No guns. And, he hasn't used his nunchucks on a guy I dated since high school, so I think we're good."
"Nunchucks? Jesus, D-doll. I thought I was a mood-killer. I may not be able to get it up for a few weeks with that thought in mind." Hah. Not a chance. I'm half hard just sitting next to her and running my fingers through her hair.
"Yeah, well, you don't have to worry about them. I, uh, kinda had a chat with them today on the phone."
"You what now?" I couldn't be more shocked. "Delilah, you should have waited for me."
"No. I've talked a lot about you since you came home. They both understood how important you've become to me. Looking back, Mom's been asking sneaky questions about us. Either I was oblivious or refused to see things for what they were. In essence, they saw this coming. I told them about John's letter, which was a big relief to them. Mom said we should do what makes us happy, and often things were meant to be even though they come about in unexpected ways."
"Seriously? They're on board with the two of us being...the two of us? Just like that?" I snap my fingers. Delilah nods, grinning.
"Pretty much. Plus, Dad said to tell you he sold the nunchucks at a yard sale, so you're safe unless you pull a boneheaded move that hurts me. More or less a direct quote."
"Noted."
"Uh, in fact, we're supposed to have dinner there Sunday night. If that's okay with you. If you're not up to it we can..."
"We're going. Tell me what time and we're there." I lean in and kiss her. The dark lipstick has long since worn off, leaving her bare lips to play with mine. She tastes delicious. Like wine and chocolate from the mousse she had for dessert. My hand wraps around her neck and I pull her to me. The closer she comes, the closer I want her. She's practically in my lap, and it's taking all my willpower not to allow my hands to grope her. Not an easy feat, because I really, really, really want to feel her tits. And her bare skin. One hand rests on her thigh and I can't resist experiencing the joy of sliding it under the hem of her dress. My fingers brush against the panty line on her hip, and force myself to stop. We're both breathing heavily, and Delilah's eyes are glassy with desire.
"Baby, if you only had an idea of how badly I want to strip you out of this dress and make you come about ten times." I groan at the thought, forcing myself to do the right thing. "Before we can go there, we have one more thing to talk about."
Delilah grumbles in disappointment, which is oddly satisfying. At least she's not shying away or afraid of taking that step. I hope.
"You definitely are a mood killer JD." She leans against my chest, and I'm melting.
"I'm guessing it's no secret that I want to fuck you, have sex with you, and make love to you. Not necessarily in that order. But, damned soon. The sooner the better."
"There's a problem?"
"There's a problem." How the hell do I say this without sounding like a dick. Not possible. Best get the dickish statement out there. "I think I—we—might have an issue with, uh, your bed. Maybe even the whole room."
Delilah stares at me, then turns away, her frown returning. "Oh. Didn't think of that."
"Baby, I'm not sure I can have sexy times with you in there without feeling like a ghost is keeping watch." Aw, fuck. The tears are pooling. "Talk to me, babe."
"How did that not occur to me, James? Of course not. It would probably freak us both out. It certainly would now that you've brought it out into the open. Can't put that cat back in the bag."
"Right. Anyway, as clinical as this sounds, that leaves us with few options. Your guest room. Or my apartment." What I don't say is anywhere else in this condo. Who the hell knows where JC and her fucked. Jesus. I can practically see them going at it on the damned coffee table in front of us. This is not good. Worse than I thought, in fact. I glance around the apartment and sense John's ghost mocking me. Fucker. Delilah is silent. I can't believe we're having a conversation outlining where we will, in theory, have sex. Never in all my years has this been a discussion with a woman. What do I even say now?
"You wanna come back to my place? Or have I so thoroughly killed the mood that you're gonna kick me out?"
Delilah doesn't answer me. She stands up and goes into the bedroom. I hear drawers open and close and water run in the bathroom sink. Then, it's silent for another couple minutes. Part of me is tempted to go see if she's all right. The other part is kicking my ass for being an idiot and yelling at me to go home. Instead I sit and wait. When she returns, she's wearing jeans, a T-shirt, a hoodie, and sneakers. Her makeup is washed off, and her hair is brushed out and pulled into a ponytail. Her purse is looped over her shoulder. She corks the bottle of wine and turns to me, holding it.
"Let's go."
Zero to sixty, my dick is granite. "Okay."
****
Only three more chapters to go!
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***I'd like to thank James from www.goonwrite.com for the cover to "Delilah's Tears."