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Part 57

And just like that, with a growling tummy, I went to sleep, impatiently waiting for what Gabriel had planned.

That morning felt special for some reason. I didn’t know if it was the workout, the fasting, the anticipation of what the day would bring, or perhaps the wet dream I’d had, but I woke up super early—somewhere around 5:30 a.m. Not only that, I was super energized and incredibly horny, but ready to take on the world. I couldn’t even stay in bed playing with my phone, and I didn’t want to masturbate because, well, Gabriel would handle that. So, I decided to send Chrissie a text message saying, “Good morning! I will pick you up at 6:30 for class 😘😘😘.”

I even had time to send Gabriel a quick good morning text, letting him know that I was going to class with Chrissie and that I was looking forward to seeing him. As I sent that message, I got a response from Jiggles with a simple thumbs-up emoji.

I hopped out of bed, did my quick morning routine, and off I went with nothing but a glass of water in my belly. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel that hungry—at least, not that much anyway.

When I pulled up to Chrissie’s place, I sent her a text saying, “Please let the imperial ass know that I’m outside!” She quickly replied with another thumbs-up emoji. Her responses seemed off—not her usual chatty self.

A few minutes later, here came Jiggles—but she was more like Jiggles-less. She looked like she was dragging herself to my car. I said, “Good morning, sunshine!” She put her head on my shoulder and mumbled, “Redddd… I am crunchy.”

I said, “What do you mean? What’s wrong?” and she slowly replied, “Some mornings are just like that. I wake up in a bad mood.” I smiled and said, “Ah! You mean, grouchy? Cranky?” She looked at me with sarcastic frustration, rolled her eyes, and said, “Yeah, like I said, crunchy!”

AHHHHH! I get it—Cranky Grouchy… CRUNCHY! Cute!

That might not be what she meant, but that is what satisfied my curiosity.

I just laughed—she was adorable! I asked, “Okay, Chrissie, music or silence?” She placed her finger on her lips, signaling for silence, and off we went.

A few minutes later, she took a sip from her water bottle and said, “Okay, pretty girl, you can put music on. I am not crunchy anymore.” I quietly put the radio on, let whatever was playing continue, and told her that if she wanted to change the music, she was welcome to. She played around with the radio but didn’t settle on anything before we made it to the gym.

The class was very small that day, with probably about seven people total. Some were stretching and fooling around before class. The “top guy” kept avoiding even looking at us, and that was the first smile I saw on Chrissie’s face that day. Apparently, the poor guy’s discomfort brought her joy—the evil jiggly bitch. But I was smiling too, so maybe not-so evil.

A few minutes into class, Chrissie was gradually waking up, but after the warm-ups, she was back to her usual bubbly self. It was night and day! She started playing and joking around with me, teasing and flirting—business as usual with Chrissie.

The instructor started showing us a move called a “Paint Brush,” which required Chrissie to get on top of me, with both her legs on my side and her torso over my chest so she’d have access to my other side and arm. I really hope this description makes sense—if it doesn’t, a quick search for “BJJ Paint Brush” on YouTube should paint the picture… get it? Paint Brush, paint the picture? Eh, I tried.

Anyway, when it was time for us to practice the move, she would literally drag her boobs over my face. But when I saw other people doing the same move, they didn’t do any such dragging—they were all chest-to-chest. She was doing chest-to-face on purpose, and I… was not hating it, let’s put it that way.

Then, it was my turn, and what can I tell you? I was feeling good, and what’s good for the goose, right? So, when it was my turn, I did exactly what she did—or at least, I tried. We were supposed to practice the move five times each, but after the third time, she whispered, “If you keep putting those things in my face, I am going to be forced to take a little bite. I don’t want to, but you’re forcing my hand.”

As things tend to go, I got shy and didn’t say anything—I just blushed and started doing it chest-to-chest, like it was supposed to be, and said, “Better? Am I doing it right?” She replied, “You’re doing it perfect, but I liked it better the wrong way,” and giggled away, so much so that the instructor asked her to be quiet.

All that rustling and teasing from Chrissie really amped up my already overactive "urges" (if you know what I mean) that had been building since I woke up. I just could not wait to see Gabriel!

There was a part of me that felt guilty, like I was cheating on Gabriel. I knew I wasn’t—I hadn’t done anything—but maybe rubbing my boobs on Chrissie’s face was too much, you know? At the same time, I can’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it.

After class was done, I told Chrissie that I could only do one class that morning because I had to go home and get ready for Gabriel. She said, “Oh, you’re such a tease! Fine! Go with our sir and leave me here with all these… non-sirs,” and we laughed.

She walked me to my car, pressed her forehead against mine, and said, “Thank you so much for getting up early and coming with me. It means a lot. I am so glad you’re in my life. You are amazing.” I replied, “Me too, Chrissie. You’re incredible.” Then she kissed my forehead, and off she went.

On my drive home, I kept wondering if what I did was okay. There was a guilty feeling because I knew I had purposely rubbed my chest on her face. The tug-of-war between “I shouldn’t have done that” and “she did it first” was intense, but it all took a back seat to my anticipation of seeing Gabriel—maybe there was a back-seat vibrator situation brewing.

I kept dipping in and out of thoughts of the dream I’d had the night before that left me waking up a puddly mess. And when I wasn’t feeling guilty, the images in my head of the whole boob thing with Chrissie were enough to drive anyone crazy. But I managed to get home safely.

When I got home, Mom was already up and drinking coffee. She was shocked and nearly spat out her coffee when she saw me walk in—she thought someone was breaking in. I couldn’t blame her; it was unlike me to be up that early, let alone out of the house. I said good morning, kissed her, explained I was coming from class, and said I had to run to the shower. No time to socialize—I have a date with my boyfriend. Toodle-oo, Mother!

I quickly got undressed, smelled my clothes, and—nope, it was not better the second day. Maybe I just had to get used to it.

I hopped in the shower and did the nook-and-cranny shaving thing, because you never know what Gabriel will come up with, and my boyfriend is not going to catch me unprepared.

After the shower, I poked my head out of my bedroom and asked Mom to please put some tea water on for me while I got dressed.

I scavenged my closet for clothes, completely clueless about what to wear. I decided to go with casual (ha! As if I had clothes to be anything but casual), so I grabbed some jeans and a sweater and figured that would have to do.

I realized I really needed to start asking Gabriel what his plans for me were so I could dress accordingly in the future. Thankfully, jeans and sweaters could work for almost any occasion.

I didn’t do much with my hair; I just let it air dry and figured I’d tie it up if it got too out of hand.

I walked out to the kitchen, and Mom had my tea all ready, so I sat with her at the table. She was drinking her coffee and nibbling on some breakfast cookies—nothing huge.

We talked for a little bit, but I tried not to go too deep because Gabriel was bound to show up shortly, and I didn’t want to start a conversation with Mom that I wouldn’t be able to finish. She asked where I was going, and I was honest—I told her I didn’t know, only that Gabriel was picking me up in a few minutes.

Armed with concern, she said, “I don’t know if I like all this, Rediance…” I replied, “Mother, I like it! That’s got to count.” She couldn’t help but laugh and said, “You’re a smartass.” I smiled and said, “I learned from the best!” She scoffed, and we went back to just enjoying each other’s company.

After a few minutes of catching up with Mom, I knew it was time. Sure enough, I looked out the window, and Gabriel was pulling up. I kissed Mom, wished her a great day, and left.

Now, we all know that Mom was going to be looking out the window… but I wasn’t worried about that anymore; she knew everything she needed to know about Gabriel.

Gabriel saw me coming out, got out of the car, and met me by the passenger-side door. He looked at me and said, “Hello, beautiful. You look fantastic.” He hugged me and added, “Mmm… you smell so good… I’ve missed you.”

I felt good—just being in his presence again was enough to make me melt. I said, “I’ve missed you too, Sir,” and kissed him.

He opened the door and let me into the car, and we drove off. I wondered what Mom was thinking, or saying… surely, she’d be on the phone with my aunt, filling her in on me seeing an older man, telling her how some old guy was taking advantage of her little girl. Little did she know, he wasn’t taking as much advantage as her little girl wanted!

It was such a beautiful day—not too hot, not too cold… just perfect. Gabriel put the windows down, opened the sunroof (or moonroof, whatever), gave me his sunglasses, turned up the music, and held my hand. I was there again, in that little piece of paradise that Gabriel always seemed to carve out for me.

For the first time, I recognized the music he was playing—it was Scar Tissue by RHCP. The song felt perfect for the weather, the wind tangling my hair, the drive, and the handholding.

I wanted to talk, but I also wanted to enjoy the moment. I decided to let the song finish, then lowered the volume and asked, “Where are we going?” He simply said, “Relax, we’ll be there soon… enjoy the drive, beautiful.”

I thought to myself, “You know what, I will do just that.” I said, “Yes, Sir!” and put the music back on.

About ten minutes later, Gabriel pulled up to a little strip mall and parked. He said, “Let’s go, beautiful.” He grabbed my hand, and we walked into a tiny store that looked like someone had thrown every “relax-your-soul” item they could find into a shop and called it a day. There was stuff stacked on top of other stuff—tapestries, embroidered cushions, Buddha statues in every shape and size, random bits of colorful fabric, incense holders, and even a smiling-face T-shirt reminding you to “Be Happy.” Because nothing says inner peace like clutter, right?

Gabriel led me to the section with the cushions and asked me to pick one—whichever I liked the most. I was confused and asked why. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking; he obviously wanted me to have one, but I just didn’t see the purpose. He said, “Beautiful, just pick the one that pulls you, trust me.”

Sigh. Alright. There were different colors, but they all seemed to have pretty much the same design embroidered on them, so I picked a round, red one—it just looked cushiony and comfortable. He said, “Perfect,” paid for it, and we left… that simple. He instructed me to grab it, and we started walking back to the car.

I asked him why he was buying this for me, and he said, “All good things to those who wait, beautiful. Besides, it suits you well. I think you should start carrying it with you everywhere you go—it brings out the color in your eyes.” We both laughed, but it was still unsatisfying. I didn’t get a real answer.

When we got in the car, I said, “Sir, when can I eat? I am starviiiiinnnn-g!” He replied, “Just a little longer, beautiful. I promise you will like this.” I smiled and said, “I don’t know, Sir, you ask for a lot of faith.” We both recognized the sentence—it was becoming an inside joke. We smiled at one another, and he said, “And just like last time you said that to me, you are going to love this as well.”

I said, “I know, but I am still hungryyy.” He smiled and said, “You are so adorable, Red.” I replied, “Adorable enough to feed me?” He just smiled and said, “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

He drove for about 20 minutes and pulled up to a house. I asked, “Sir, is this your house?” He said, “Yes, beautiful. Let’s go.”

I did not see this coming. I had no idea I was going to his house. What was his plan? Oh shit! He has a big “toy bag” in there! Let’s go!!! I grabbed my cushion and couldn’t get there fast enough. To hell with food—toy bag!

His place was a humble little house, about as classic as it gets. A one-story, unassuming place with a narrow driveway running up beside it. There were a handful of shrubs in front—rounded and a little scraggly, like they’d been trimmed but never tamed, just doing their own thing. The windows were modest, no grand entrances or oversized porches. The kind of house that’s just there, not trying to prove anything, just quietly existing, doing its job of being a cozy little place to come home to.

Honestly, I had never sat and wondered what his house might look like, so I can’t say I was disappointed or anything like that. I hadn’t formed an idea. What I knew for sure was that I wanted to get in there as soon as possible.

As we made our way to the front door, he stopped and said, “Red, I need you to listen to everything I am about to tell you and pay full attention. Can you do that for me?” I quickly replied, “Yes, Sir.”

He continued, “Red, I am about to welcome you into MY HOME. Right now, I need you to pay attention and do what I ask of you. Do not question me—just do it. If you have questions about anything, I will be happy to answer them afterward, but at this time, I need you to pay close attention and follow my instructions.

If, at some point, I shush you, DO NOT take it personally. It only means that you are deviating from my instructions.

If I ask you to do something that you are not comfortable doing, say ‘MAGENTA,’ and we will step back outside and address it here.

Can you do that for me?”

to be continued...