Chapter Text
Nothing good comes of dating sites. Lani knew this. Yet here she was, doing what she swore she wouldn't over a year ago. Again.
"It's different," swore Tiffany.
Lani rolled her eyes at the memory, even as she picked out a screen-name and began the long task of filling out answers to inane questions.
"It caters to big beautiful booties like you!" promised Tiffany.
It seemed to, that was for sure; Big Ladies Need Love Too dot com catered to the lovers of big-beautiful-women as well as the women themselves, to rave reviews and purportedly orgasmic results.
"Yey," muttered Lani, sighing as she continued to tap in answer after answer, taking the occasional sip from her glass of wine coupled now and then with a piece of dark chocolate. An hour passed before she was finally finished with that part, leaving what she was looking for blank, her gender preference blank, and selecting her usual profile picture: a white plumeria blossom set against a mass of dark curls with one gleaming eye peering out between, shot in black and white.
With a few indignant, angry taps, she slapped the enter key.
"There," she grumbled, turning away from her computer. "It's done." She sent Tiffany the link just to prove she had. "Stupid bet," she added before standing, turning off her monitor and heading towards her bathroom.
Brushing her teeth, she glared at herself in the mirror.
What was I thinking? she thought angrily at herself. You'd think I'd learned in college that no one in the world can beat Tiffany Payne at beer pong. She spat into the sink, turning on the water to rinse out her mouth before tapping her toothbrush against the edge. "Even when we were in our twenties!" she muttered, stalking to bed, shedding clothing as she went. Stupid, stupid bet.
One shot left. Lani was giggling. Tiffany was serious.
"I make this shot, I win," she leered at Lani. Lani rolled her dark eyes. "If I win this," Tiff continued, "you make the profile."
"What's the big fucking deal about this damn dating thing," slurred Lani, who'd had as many beers at Tiff but for all that she was twice Tiffany's size, could not hold her alcohol near as well. "I don't have a problem finding dates."
"That's because you're hot as fuck," agreed Tiffany. Lani laughed, shaking her head. "No, you are; you're confident and gorgeous and I love you. But, Lani, honey? You have shit taste in men."
Lani glared. "Fair point. But. What difference does it make then where I find them?"
Tiffany sighed. "Look, let me beat you and then I'll explain-"
"-bitch!"
Welp.
An hour into explaining the website Tiffany worked at, Lani groaned, her face planted on the patio table. "How do you do this to me every time?"
"You didn't learn from- ...wait, have you been listening to me at all?"
"Yes. I have. I'll do it, but I still don't understand what the difference is gonna be. From a collection of men, you said so yourself; I pick the assholes every fucking time."
"The site is different. We verify everyone, background checks, we even go through Facebook profiles, established reputations, work history-"
Lani lifted her head to squint at Tiffany. "That sounds like a lot of work. For you."
Her best friend since fourth grade, Tiffany sighed. "It is. I've been trying to tell you; it's an exclusive dating site. All of our dating sites are. This one just happens to be the beta for a BBW-specific matching site. It's a win-win; you sign on, get matched with some nice, stellar, dick-pic-free conversations and dates, I get to monitor the algorithm and the back-end coding. We have five-hundred free accounts to test; I only had ten to pass out, you're the first person I asked since Monday, the rest over the week have been taken. I saved this one for you." Tiffany looks comical, pressing her hands together, begging Lani. Lani tries very hard not to laugh. "Please. I promise. If you don't like it? I'll delete your account, you're done. But it helps me help you, and it ... helps me."
Lani wrinkles her nose. "It sounds like a fetish site-"
"It's not. I swear. I mean, it's a preference, for sure, but it's not ... like that. If a profile looks like it's leaning that way, they're shuffled to another site we have for that kinda thing." Tiffany wriggles her fingers. "This one is for relationships. That's the difference."
Lani rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Send it to me tomorrow, I'll forget otherwise-" The rest of her words were lost as Tiffany threw herself at Lani and hugged her around the neck, squealing.
"You won't regret this! I swear!" Tiffany laughed.
Beer pong had clearly been rigged.
I'm regretting this already, thought Lani, staring at the mounting number of messages in her BLNL2 inbox.
So far, Tiff had been right; no dick pics. But a lot of long-winded messages about who she was, where she was, what they liked about her answers to a particular series of questions on the questionnaire. It all just seemed so ...
...boring? she thought, struggling herself to find the right description.
A lot of pictures and profiles of men and women from all types and walks of life, most of them professionals here in city, some students, others somewhere between here and there. Nothing that caught her eye, though.
Maybe Tiffany is right; maybe I'm just depressed.
Lani sat on that thought for a minute, chewing at her bottom lip.
"God dammit, no," she growled to herself, slamming her laptop shut in the coffee shop she'd camped at for the morning, stuffing it into her bag before yanking it over her shoulder.
The autumn air was crisp in the morning, bringing with it the scent of the waking city as she stalked out to meet it full on. Some parts of the city were still being rebuilt from some thing or another, the music of construction filling the air; it was pretty common these days, since the Big Green Guy destroyed Harlem, the Devil wrecked Hell's Kitchen, and the Avengers, well ... took out everything else. And now they had a Spider-Guy.
It was a strange world these days.
Lani was still pretty new to it all. From the mid-West, she'd only been in the city for about a year. Tiffany was her best friend, her roommate, her savior all things big city, and the reason she'd moved. All worth it, really, just to get out of Illinois, to try something different, to start over.
But here I am, she thought angrily, dodging skateboards and cabs as she trotted through a cross-walk, the sidewalks starting to fill as foot-traffic commuters headed to work in the wee hours. Moody and dumb and-
The pessimism was gross; after months of it, Lani was getting tired of hearing herself think.
Paint, Ink, & Canvas wasn't a bad gig. It wasn't the end-all, be-all, but it was something she liked to do. Managing an art store had its perks, and while her illustration career wasn't going anywhere at all, the very least she could be was surrounded by art supplies. All day. Every day. And it didn't matter that a quarter of her paycheck went right back to the store; buying art supplies was one of the few things that made her happy.
The first one in, always, she unlocked the front door after lifting the grate, closing both behind her as she started the daily chores of opening the store. It wasn't huge but it was specialized, and they made just as much money with their late-afternoon, early-evening art classes. She didn't teach any of those yet; most of her time was spent helping the owners maintain some kind of profit margin, inventory, schedules. They had a steady stream of business, but the owners, being up in years, had been over-charged for really stupid reasons-
"Mr. Preston you don't need to buy your oil paints from third party vendors, you can go straight to the supplier at a third of the cost-"
"But doesn't that mean we cut out our good friend, the-?"
"Mr. Preston, you and your wife have been dealing with the fourth incarnation of that company; the original supplier sold their brand twenty-five years ago."
"Oh. Oh dear. Well, at least we have our other-"
"Mr. Preston. Sit down. We need to talk."
-but it was sorted now. With their very well established reputation and business accounts, they were able to drop their prices on a lot of their supplies. Hence? Profits went up.
"Ah, Leilani, good morning!" Abigail Preston greeted Lani with a beaming smile about fifteen minutes later, coming through the back way, her white hair pinned up in a high bun.
"Just 'Lani', Mrs. Preston, please," Lani said with a sigh, her own smile warm even as her tone was exasperated.
"Oh, but you've such a pretty name-!"
"Mother, please," responded Savannah, the owners' daughter, a woman in her fifties who didn't look a day over thirty. "You're making her uncomfortable, please don't chase off the only person in ten years that's managed to talk sense into Dad." Savannah's green eyes twinkled from around the corner of a supply closet, her white-streaked hair fashionably short. "Then we'll go back into foreclosure talk and you know what that does for your ulcers."
As Mrs. Preston spluttered at her daughter, Lani giggled her way up to the front of the shop, counting out the register after unwinding her scarf from around her neck. By the time the grate and door were officially unlocked, she was almost in a good mood.
And then her phone started to ping.
BLNL2 apparently had an app Tiffany had installed without telling her, the offending program announcing its activity despite Lani's attempts to silence it without muting her phone.
Infuriated cursing five minutes later, she silenced her entire phone and stuffed it into her bag under the counter, Lani vowing under her breath to murder Tiffany in her sleep. Maybe by drowning her in beer.
The day had been busy. It was a week before Thanksgiving break and they offered a lot of early Christmas deals, advertising in a lot of small local papers and the surrounding art schools; the sales had started today and had kept the place hopping until closing. Busy was good; busy meant the day went by fast and Lani could get back home to the brownstone she shared with Tiffany.
Well. It was more like, Tiffany's parents let her live there, and Tiffany let Lani keep her out of trouble.
It was a great space, she loved the house. She had a large bedroom and a studio right next to it, with big windows, her desks and shelves crammed with projects and drawings, paintings, and paints, brushes, pencils, inks... It was perfect. Almost heavenly.
And yet.
"TIFFANY!" Lani shouted when she came home, shutting the door and promptly locking it.
"What?" came the call from basement.
Lani headed down, just under the main staircase that led upstairs. The basement was set up to be soundproof, which was good for both women; Tiff liked to code with bass. Serious bass. A lot of bass.
Bass that was being turned down even as Lani scolded her, stomping down the steps.
"When did you put the app on my phone?" she grumbled, collapsing on the worn sofa just inside Tiff's door. Tiff swiveled her chair like some kind of mob villain, the pretty woman smirking at her roommate.
"After you sent me your profile link," she snickered. "I stole your phone and hooked you up while you slept. Also," she added. "You should wash your hands before you work at your computer; oil paint and keyboards don't do well."
"It was chocolate, oil paint is full of cancer, I don't touch the shit if I can help it," came Lani's indignant mutter, peering at her phone, swiping through screens. "You didn't put anything else on here did you?"
"Pfft, what do you take me for?"
"An evil, scheming Korean woman."
"I'm only half Korean."
"So, only half evil?"
"I'm never letting my mother cook for you ever again-"
"Noooooooo! I take it back!"
A little bit later, the two women sat in their kitchen, eating dinner.
"So, any good ones yet? I noticed your inbox is gettin' crammed. Only a matter of time before you do too," Tiffany snickered around a mouthful of steamed vegetables.
"You said it wasn't that kind of website!" laughed Lani, amused. "Were you lying? Is it just another hook-up site?"
"Fuck, shut up," Tiff groaned. "No, not if I can help it. Our culture is over-saturated with that shit, it's so stupid."
"Not yet," Lani snorted. "I've looked through the ones that might be interesting, but that was this morning. Haven't had a chance to check them out since."
"I put up that full body silhouette photo I did this summer."
Lani choked on her food while Tiff grinned over the rim of her glass.
"What?! WHY?" Lani looked for something to throw at her friend.
"It's just your curvy shadow! It's hot! And discrete. Ow!" she laughed, dodging a thrown fork as it bounced harmlessly off the tiled floor. "Look, if you don't advertise the goods, no one is gonna know what's on the table!"
"I'm not meat, Tiffany!"
"But you are delicious, Lani!"
"Fuck me, that explains the influx of messages while I was at work this morning."
"Yeah, I added the photo after I woke up this morning."
"Dammit, woman-"
Lani wasn't brave enough to go through her phone until after dinner. And after she'd been working in her studio. In fact, she didn't look at her phone until she was in bed, showered, exfoliated, and ready to sleep. Her laptop was set up on her comforter, the rest of her under the blankets. Aliens was playing, one of her favorite movies; it helped her brain unbend from the overwhelming, growing number hovering above her inbox.
"God, I'm gonna kill that woman," she grumbled, swiping open the app on her phone, flipping through it while the soothing sound of Marines screaming on her laptop filtered through her room.
The messages continued to be typical. Boring. Pleas for interest, comments on her body, pointed references from her profile. They weren't bad; grammar was decent, it was a diverse collection of parties. Just. Nothing stood out. Deleting messages as she read them, by the time the credits rolled her inbox was empty again.
Lani sighed. Maybe it's me. My standards are stupid.
She tugged off her glasses and set them on her nightstand, reaching up to turn off the light. She plugged in her phone and punched at her pillow, trying to get it comfortable. Her thoughts spiraled downward, the good mood from the day crumbling beneath the despair of inevitable.
Alone. I'm gonna be alone.
She smirked, a point of hope piercing through her pity party. Or worse. It'll be me and Tiff and our ten thousand rescued pets.
Ping.
It was late. She'd been sleeping. Lani rubbed at her face.
Ping ping.
"Oh my god Tiff I'ma kill you-" mumbled the woman as she groped out for her phone on the table by her bed.
Squinting in the dark at the lit screen, she thumbed for the settings to silence the thing, having just done so before it vibrated, another notification coming through.
Three new messages from-
She squinted again.
Oh. One person, three messages?
Curiosity getting the best of her, she tapped open the app. She didn't select the right thing, it opened the profile of the person and not the messages in her inbox.
Veteran. Huh. Male. Thirties. Local.
S. Buchanan. His profile had only one line:
'Looking for connections in a world that has a lot of ways to do so without guarantees. Something witty here.'
That had her sitting up a little in bed, her hair, still damp from her shower, spilling over one bare shoulder. Her eyes adjusted to the dim screen, she scrolled through to their compatibility score.
Sixty-five percent. The highest yet.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she mulled it over, her thumb hovering over his message icon.
Oh what the hell.
SBuchanan: Well, it ain't a hundred percent but you're the closest match I've had so far. So, hello. I like your comment on 40s aesthetic and dance, sounds like you know a bit about the military life from the side-lines, and decent taste in music.
That was a little cynical, she thought. She read the next message and smirked.
SB: Okay, so that was a little cynical for an opener. I'm sorry about that. I really don't know why I said it that way. Maybe I'm just tired.
Yeah. She could relate to that.
SB: Also I have no idea what I'm doing here. Am I reading between the lines and thinking you're a bit of the same? Or ... I could just be assuming. I do that sometimes. Assume. And I ramble when I'm nervous. Or I do when I'm speaking. I guess I do when I'm writing too. Why is that? Maybe my friends are right; I should see a therapist.
Okay. This one definitely had promise. Lani took another minute rereading his messages before starting to reply, noticing only then that his little floating ellipses were working; he'd been typing too.
SB: Oh no, I really hope I didn't wake you.
LaniLuvaCreek: That's a little presumptuous of you, thinking you had such an impact when we've only just 'met'.
SB: Well, did I? I swear, I didn't notice the time until just now.
Lani checked the hour; two in the morning. She winced.
LLC: Fair enough; you did wake me, but? You seemed worth it.
SB: A little presumptuous?
Lani giggled.
LLC: Eh. Maybe. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was all the rambling.
SB: Rude.
She snorted.
LLC: You're the one that woke me up.
SB: A good point, but you left your phone on, it seems.
LLC: I did. A mistake on my part. But I'm glad I did.
SB: Oh no. A barrage of little notices all day?
LLC: It's a new account. And a new picture.
SB: The shadow-figure one? I liked that one. It's nice. Artsy.
LLC: Not my idea. My friend put it on my phone last night. I usually don't put up images of my body or my face in my profiles. It can get weird.
SB: You've done this kind of thing before?
LLC: I'm in my thirties; I've done a few.
SB: I'm completely new to this. I didn't put any up. Should I?
Lani went through his profile. He had a picture of an American flag and MIA/POW image. She winced. Oh no.
LLC: Ah. Maybe. What you have up could give the wrong impression. I mean I get it, all the men in my family served. You can get some ... extremists.
SB: I know what you mean. Maybe I should replace them.
LLC: No! Don't do that. I mean, put up what you want. But people can be put off by anything too patriotic these days.
SB: I'm not a big NRA, gun-toting, MAGA type, I promise. I just didn't know what else to put up. Read: totally new to this.
LLC: Alright. Well, what else interests you? Puppies? Tanks? Booze?
SB: Those are my only options?
LLC: Well no, but it's late and I was sleeping and I'm trying to help a stranger with his profile picture, even if I really think he should just stick with me for now.
SB: Wow. That's rather straight-forward.
In the solitude of her room, Lani laughed. Again.
LLC: It's been that kind of day, she typed, smiling at her phone. But it's nice to meet you, SB.
SB: Yeah? You too, Lani. And I think I'll leave my profile alone for now, and just stick with you.
She felt herself blushing; an unexpected response from such an innocent interaction.
He was typing again.
SB: It's late, though. I'm gonna let you go to sleep and try talking to you on this contraption tomorrow.
Contraption! She shook her head, smiling.
LLC: Alright. SB? Thanks for reaching out, even if it o'dark ugly.
SB: Thanks for reaching back, Lani, even if I did wake you up.
LLC: Good night. Talk to you soon.
SB: Good night.
Lani smiled as she replaced her phone, looking at it as her eyes readjusted to the dark. Well. Let's see where this rabbit hole goes.
SB was definitely not the first thing she thought about the next morning.
In her rapid fire messaging last night, or maybe her sleepy, initial groping, she'd managed to turn off her alarm. She woke up an hour late, panicked, and ran out the door with an apple in her mouth and her hair in a sloppy tail, her jacket hanging off one arm and her scarf dragging from her bag.
It meant she missed her morning coffee-shop wake-up treat and power-walked/jogged the whole way to the art store. She arrived breathless and flushed and really grumpy. It took until lunch-time before she snapped out of that mood. Sitting at the coffee shop she'd been unable to get to that morning, she opened up her laptop, her heart fluttering only a tiny bit when she saw that she had new messages from one SB Buchanan.
SB: I hope this is a better time. Unless you work weird hours. I do, so if you send me a message and I don't answer, it's usually that. Work, I mean. Unless this gets weird and I start avoiding you because I'm intimidated or you turn into a member of Hydra or something.
She almost choked on her coffee right there at the shop. It was his only message, from about an hour ago, so she started typing up a reply.
LLC: Hydra? Ah, no, but I can appreciate that level of paranoia. I know some of the people behind this dating app, I'm told their vetting process is up there with the FBI. If you get weird, I promise to start avoiding you in a clear fashion, so that you have no illusions. Seriously, though, it's rare that I leave people hanging. In fact, I'm known for making it painfully clear why I stop talking to someone, or why I won't date you anymore, or why I have to stay away from you. My roommate says it's why I still have so many exes that stick around as friends; she insists it's because I'm too diplomatic and charming. I don't know what she means. She also calls me an outrageous bitch half the time. Lovingly, as best friends do. I'm sure you know how that can be.
Lani tapped her bottom lip, thinking, before sighing, typing more:
LLC: Now I'm rambling. You know this used to be easier, I hear; back in the day, people would write letters and strike up relationships that way. I kind of like that idea, you know? I mean, messaging back and forth is fun, but like you said, sometimes work gets in the way. Right now, I'm at lunch. I'm trying to find my humanity in the bottom of my coffee cup, my morning started out kind of frantic because I forgot to set my alarm. I ate my over-priced sandwich and now I'm writing you, after finally having a chance to sit down and look at my messages. I'll be straight with you: it's unlikely I'll be able to do this again until I get home tonight. So I'll ask you a few questions. These are super important, so think hard about your answers. Okay. Favorite color(s), favorite piece of art, be it painting, sculpture, whatever; and finally, favorite thing to do on a Sunday night.
She hit enter. The timer on her phone went off. She sighed, closed her laptop and stuffed it in her bag, cradling her coffee as she went back to work.
SB: I know what you mean about best friends. Me and mine ribbed each other as often as we lifted each other up, it was a constant cycle. Appreciate yours though, okay? I lose mine years ago, I miss him everyday. He got me through some serious events in my life and I worry sometimes that he didn't know how much he meant to me.
SB: Alright, enough of the sad stuff, you'll think I'm some kind of depressed old guy. Let's see. I appreciate your reassurance of clarity, kind of nice to think you won't leave me hanging wondering what I messed up with, and intend to lay it out completely before you go dark on me. I mean, it's not terribly optimistic but it's weirdly reassuring. Thanks for that.
Lani laughed, curled up in bed; she was right, she didn't have a chance to look at her messages until that evening. Music played from her laptop as she unwound with a book. He hadn't replied until a few chapters in, but that was just as well. She let him write, wanting to see what he'd say without interruption.
SB: Favorite color is blue, but if it counts, I'm partial to polka-dots. Is that lame? That deep, dark blue. It's kind of soothing, I guess. I have a suit that color that I have less reason to wear than I'd like. Maybe strange for a guy, but it is what it is. I've had it forever, I've only worn it a few times. It's not like dress blues, it's civilian. And ... yeah. I like it.
SB: Favorite piece of art. I'm sad to say I don't know if I have one. I mean I've seen art, sure, but nothing that's stuck out in my memory. Maybe I should fix that?
SB: Favorite thing to do on a Sunday night is probably nothing. Literally, doing nothing. Sitting outside or some place peaceful, and just staring at the skyline. I don't live inside the city but I go there for work fairly often. Sometimes I'll get the chance to sit on a balcony or in a park and I'll just watch people come and go, or even if I'm anywhere else in the world, I like to just sit, soak in the world. It's usually not long after that I'm running out to get something else done, the moments of stillness are precious to me.
SB: God, I sound like such an old geezer.
LLC: Nah, not too much. You should go to the Museum of Modern Art the next time you make it out here. Their permanent collection is pretty amazing, I'm sure you'll find something to like. If not a favorite, one that sticks out enough. Art is my life. Sort of.
SB: An important question, then? Also how long have you been sitting there silently judging what I've written?
LLC: Long enough to see that you're a creepy people-watcher.
SB: I'm not creepy! You don't people-watch? You live in the city, how can you not?
LLC: If what you mean by 'people-watch' is 'silently judging'? I do that all day. It's half of my job.
SB: You don't strike me as someone who 'judges', you still talk to me after my super extremist-promoting profile pictures.
LLC: That's a clear case of books and covers. An exception but not typical of me. What's your favorite movie?
SB: The Wizard of Oz.
LLC: With Judy Garland?
SB: Are you judging me?
LLC: No! There's like, nine re-boots of that, I was just making sure.
SB: Your profile says you're a service brat.
LLC: Yeah, my dad was in the Air Force. What branch did you serve in?
SB: Army. Actually, I still am, but it's complicated.
LLC: Oh no.
Lani felt herself blanching.
LLC: Special forces? Okay we're done here.
SB: What! No! I mean no you aren't serious are you?
Lani sighed, smiling sadly as she typed.
LLC: No. But ya'll are 'bad news bears' according to my dad. 'Steer clear', he'd say. My uncles would say the same. And my brothers. And my grandpa. And half my cousins.
SB: Jesus. And you didn't join up?
LLC: I'm a rebel. The black sheep of the family; I decided to go to art school.
SB: Ouch.
LLC: Hey!
It was the Friday before fall break. The store was full of people and Lani's notorious bad temper was no where to be found. She was laughing with customers, helping with special orders; she'd been talking to SB through the dating site since Monday, and honestly? Every conversation was the highlight of her day, she enjoyed their interactions and today? Friday? Today was the day she'd actually get to talk to him on the phone.
She was excited. The day could not go by fast enough and yet she still felt like she was on the moon.
Tiffany noticed because of course she was monitoring her interactions. Not reading them, because invasion of privacy and laws and best friend rules, but keeping up with command inputs and whatever kind of coding monitored activity. She didn't drill Lani about him but that was only because she didn't want to scare Lani off the app. Feedback was pretty positive with the beta, but Lani had her personal attention.
"Do not look into him," Lani had said, deadly serious and pointing a finger at Tiffany's wide-eyed face.
"But-"
"I know you, you can look into him because you work for the company and you can't disclose his information to me because laws and shit, right?"
"Well-"
"-but you can't hold a secret to save your damn life, so just don't. If it goes well, I'll learn about him on my own, okay?"
"-dammit."
Tonight tonight tonight tonight! Lani's brain sang; she hadn't been this excited about anything in ages. It was awesome. It was great.
Which made the message she got right after work utterly crushing for about ten whole seconds.
SB: Work popped up, I'm out of town for a day or two, but I'll have down time tonight. I'll send you a message when I can. I'm really, really sorry.
The wind out of her sails, the walk home, albeit short, was a grumbling one.
It's not like I didn't know this would happen, she thought, old memories stirred up. How many times did Dad have to bail on things because of work? How many months was he gone over seas? Or Aunt Nikki, how many times did I see her sad and worried, waiting to hear from Uncle Bill after days of radio silence? Or Auntie Beth? Uncle Jim? She kicked at a defenseless rock, hearing it skitter across the street as she stalked home. I hope he gets a chance to poke me tonight. I've gotten so used to him and the little bits of talk and conversation. It's ... nice. He's nice.
She glared up the steps to the brownstone, muttering under her breath.
...I just hope he's safe.
Bed time found her dozing in front of her laptop again, curled up in bed, blankets tangled up around her, nude as always. Miss Vida Boheme was scolding someone on the movie she had playing, while Noxema Jackson rolled her eyes and muttered some snarky remark. To Wong Foo: Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar was probably her favorite movie, as far as cheering her up. It never failed.
Comforting as it was, it was also relaxing, and along with her very large glass of wine, she wasn't able to keep her eyes open. The credits were rolling and she was out, breathing evenly, comfortable in her bed, when her phone started to ping.
The lights were still on, it took a few confused mumbles before her eyes shot open, reaching sleepily for her phone and thumbing open the app.
SB: Are you there?
SB: I'm sorry about tonight. Things got out of hand, I didn't mean to ... stand you up? Bail on you? What's the proper term here?
Lani smirked sleepily, and, struck by a sassy bit of mischief, aimed the camera at herself and snapped a picture, hit 'send' as a reply.
It was a decent picture, her soft curves pillowed on her bed, blankets tugged up to her chest, revealing bare shoulders and soft, honey-brown skin, dark eyes and a sleepy smirk. Her hair, dried from her shower in their usual wild curls, spilled over the edge of the bed. It left out nothing, her button nose, her round face and high cheekbones, thick, dark brows and soft lips.
She usually wasn't that bold, but ... well.
SB: Woah. I
SB: I've forgotten how to type on this thing. Wow. I was not expecting that. Hi. Did I wake you again?
LLC: It's okay, I was waiting. I don't mind waking up if it's you. And hi. Felt like you deserved something for keeping your promise, even if it wasn't the original one.
SB: I'm sorry, I'm still trying to recollect myself. You look amazing. I mean, not that it mattered if you didn't but I think you'd look amazing either way it just oh god I should probably stop
Lani laughed softly, squirming in her bed as she readjusted herself, reaching up to turn off her light. Bold or not, she wasn't going to send him another picture tonight. She texted back as much too, adding, I might turn inside out about it in the morning, but oh well.
SB: Well, thank you. That was really nice. I'm sure you've figured out, if I can't call you, I can't take a return picture.
LLC: Oh, I figured, but I also didn't send it to get one back. I sent it because I wanted to share. Did I look like how you expected? The silhouette picture is revealing but not that revealing.
Tiffany took that for one of her college courses, ages ago: Lani backlit, laying on her side on a log in the woods. It revealed the exaggerated mountain of her hip, the dip of her waist and the upward climb of her shoulder, her arm draped in front of her, her other propping her head up. It was beautiful, there wasn't much art Tiffany made in school that wasn't, but Lani liked it because it left nothing about her body hidden, no surprises in the softness and plump curves; begrudgingly, she admitted it was a good choice for her profile.
SB: Don't take this the wrong way, but you didn't. Look how I expected, I mean.
LLC: Oh?
SB: I didn't expect you to be
SB: Dammit I don't know how to say it.
Lani smiled in the darkness of her room, understanding settling in.
LLC: You didn't expect me to be brown.
SB: Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong. You're beautiful, and unexpected or no, you've got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I don't know why I built you in my head as Caucasian.
LLC: That's because you're racist, SB.
SB: I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT RACIST
SB: CRAP HOW DO I MAKE IT STOP DOING THIS
Laughing, Lani reassured him that it was fine, showed him how to turn off the capslock. She turned the tables on him and asked if he was white, if that was why, and he admitted it probably was. They traded questions; he asked her where she was from, ethnically speaking, and she asked him what color his eyes were.
LLC: I don't know. I mean, my mother was from Hawaii but I don't know much about her. She died a year after I was born. Dad doesn't know if she has family, she never talked about anyone apparently. He's like you, American-mutt, Caucasian, big white dude, dirty blonde hair, gray eyes.
SB: My eyes are blue.
SB: I'm sorry about your mom.
LLC: Thanks. I wish I knew more about her. What about your parents? What are they like?
SB: My folks aren't around anymore. They died a long time ago. But they were good, supportive. I miss them, it is what it is though.
Lani frowned a little.
LLC: Are you lonely, SB? I mean, I know how the job can be. Dad and my uncles, their work was their world, the people they fought alongside, their family. Sometimes more family than their own flesh.
LLC: I mean, I just don't
She bit her lip, trying to find the words, thankful he was letting her type without interjecting, his icon still.
LLC: Life is hard enough as it is, this world we live in is insane, insaner than it was, super heroes falling out of the sky, holes ripped in the Universe. But it'd be unbearable without family, the kind we make and the kind we're born to, or one or the other. I just don't like the idea of you risking your life, of anyone risking their life, and having no one to stand with them.
LLC: Sounds like a Hallmark card, sorry. But I mean it; don't do any of that shit alone, own the family you've got. It's important.
His icon remained still. Lani stared at it for a few more moments, worrying her bottom lip, fidgeting in bed. Shit, did I go too far...?
Then-
SB: You're right, it is important. You sound like you know what you're talking about. Sorry, I was just
SB: I was looking at your picture again.
She laughed, tucking back in against her pillow, smiling at the screen.
LLC: Don't over do it; I told you, you're not getting another one for a bit. You don't want to get sick of it.
SB: It's not like a photograph, not going to wear it out any time soon.
LLC: Wear it out? Oh my, SB, what would you do with it that it would wear out?
SB: That
SB: That is not
LLC: On that note! I'm going to get some sleep. It's late.
SB: Hey wait
LLC: Good night, SB.
SB: No wait, serious question.
LLC: Alright, just one. And then seriously, its 3am, sugar.
SB: Do you always sleep like that?
LLC: Like what?
SB: All I see is blankets and curls and a smile. Is that typical?
LLC: No.
SB: Really?
LLC: Sometimes I forget to take off my glasses.
SB: ...
LLC: Good night, SB. Don't wear out that picture.
SB: Good night, Lani. I'll be sure not to.
"I sent him a picture last night. I have regrets."
Tiffany flailed out a hand over their breakfast table, decked out with the usual Saturday late-morning goodness of bacon and eggs and pancakes and kimchi. "Lemme see!"
"What! No, it's awful!"
The Korean woman gaped at Lani. "Leilani Jones, you slut!"
"IT ISN'T THAT KIND OF PICTURE!"
"Well then I'm sure it's decent, let me see!"
With a sigh, Lani passed over her phone, letting Tiffany gape at the photo she'd sent SB. "I thought I was all... soft and sexy looking," Lani grumbled. "But look at those eye wrinkles, I'm pretty sure I've got drool on my chin, and my face is all splotchy-"
"There's nipple too."
Lani choked on her coffee, eyes going wide with horror as she snatched her phone back. Only-
"Gods dammit, Tiff, don't do that."
Snickering, her roommate beamed at her over her coffee cup. "You're look perfect, I don't know what you're worried about."
"I look all ... crusty and tired and old."
"Girl, you're no spring chicken, that's for sure, but you're gorgeous there. I think you may have sent a spike of like straight to his vulnerable, squishy heart."
Lani felt her cheeks tingle. "I... surely it's just... I mean. Good lighting, that's what the majority of that picture is-"
"-are you blushing?"
LLC: Holes.
SB: That definitely sounds like an R-rated movie. Or worse.
LLC: It's -not-, it's really not. It's based off this book I loved as a teenager, it's a really good story. It's about a boy who has bad luck his whole life and ... no, you really need to watch it. Please?
SB: I said you get to pick, I stand by my word. Holes it is.
SB: So how do we do this?
LLC: Are you free now?
SB: This poor kid.
LLC: It's all because of his no good pig-stealing great great grandfather.
SB: What does that
SB: I see you've seen this movie a few times.
SB: Holy wow is that Eartha Kitt? I like her.
LLC: Yeah, it took me by surprise the first time I saw this and she was there.
SB: Wow. That guy dodged a bullet, and that girl is regretting her choice.
LLC: I hate that guy -so much-.
SB: Who? The asshole who's daddy owns the lake?
LLC: YES.
SB: What a bunch of little jerks. No wonder they're in detention camp.
LLC: Are you crying?
SB: Maybe.
Lani covered her mouth with her hand, even as Kissin' Kate Barlow succumbed to poison on the screen.
LLC: Aw, honey.
SB: They just deserved so much better. That's all.
SB warned her that for a few days, he was going to be out of touch. Another work-related trip. They were getting easier to accept, like an old habit as comfortable as a warm sweater.
SB: I really appreciate how understanding you are about that. I know it's not easy.
LLC: Dude. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed it or done it myself. It's kind of the price you pay for caring about military folk. It's okay. I mean, alright, it's not always easy, but what are my options? Throw a tantrum and complain about how unfair it is? Nah. I'm a big girl, SB. I can handle it.
SB: Yeah you are.
LLC: I am what?
SB: A big girl.
LLC: I'm shocked this is the first time you've brought that up. We've been talking what, three weeks?
SB: Ah. Well uh. I thought that it was pretty clear with the specifics of the site, and all that. Plus ... well. I try to be a gentlemen. It gets hard sometimes.
LLC: Oh does it?
SB: Okay that was not what I meant at all
SB: But yes, that too.
It was easy enough to put her head back into work. Thanksgiving break had come and gone, Christmas shopping was in full force and with it, Lani took on a few evening classes to help herself stay busy.
Nothing too strenuous, the basics of watercolor, color theory. Mostly hobbyists, a few teenagers in high school looking to get a leg up for class, even a few retired folks. While Lani was pretty certain she was crabby and bitchy ninety percent of the time, the Prestons insisted she was doing quite well.
"Everyone always has something nice to say about you," Savannah insisted, helping Lani clean up afterwards. "You don't sugar coat anything but you're pretty supportive. The beginners especially like how accessible you make it seem."
Lani blushed a little, shrugged at she rinsed out paintbrushes in the classroom sink. "This... art, it's just what I do," she murmurs. "And it should be accessible. I mean, it's all right there, I just try to get everyone to see."
"That takes patience. It's only ten people per class, but still. You're a good teacher."
Walking home that night, Lani started to wonder; the seed was planted. Maybe since she couldn't do, as far as being a successful artist, maybe she should teach?
At her desk that night, unwinding from the day, she continued work on a series of illustrations for a children's book she'd been struggling with for almost a year. She enjoyed it, the tale revolving around a fox and a cat and their antics, the watercolor-and-ink illustrations appealing and subtle, and as she worked she admitted that maybe she could do both; teach and create. It wasn't a world-shattering epiphany, it certainly wouldn't impact the same way a fireman did, or SB's line of work, or a politician or a super hero, but it made her happy. So, maybe...
Curled up in bed later that night, Lani still mulled over the idea, barely paying attention to the movie that she had playing (Prometheus, this time). She was on day three of no-SB, and she didn't expect that to change for another four; it was helpful to adjust her expectations thusly, she wouldn't start to worry until well after she probably should have. She missed him, and a small part of her worried about where he was or what he was doing, but over all, she was alright. She was.
I'm really alright, she repeated to herself and for the most part? It was the truth.
Still, when the movie was over and she was drawing the blankets up to her shoulders, the light off and her eyes flicking to her phone on the other side of the bed, she may have said a prayer or two to anyone that might listen:
Just stay safe, SB.
Her phone was ringing.
It was still dark and it was a little cold; the telltale hiss of snow on the roof gave reason as to why even as she groped in the dark for the offending device. It spasmed in her hand, the chime of the call annoyingly shrill. She was cursing while she struggled, her ire rousing her a little as she pressed the thing to her ear.
"Hello?" she mumbled sleepily, her brow furrowed, her eyes shut.
"... Dammit. I did it again, didn't I?"
Male voice. Quiet. Chagrined.
Lani's eyes blinked in the dark, she pulled the phone from her ear to stare at the number she didn't know, disbelieving as she brought it back.
"SB?" she stammered, shifting to sit up, unconsciously drawing the blanket up her chest.
"Heh. Yeah. Hi." It was a deep voice, rough with exhaustion. A very, very nice voice.
"How did-" Oh right. She'd given him her number before he'd gone radio-silent. "Mmmffuck, what time is it?" She twisted in her spot to find her clock, squinting really hard, struggling to see the number. "-Christ, man, it's 2:30 in the morning, did you just get in?" Tremors of excitement added to the cold, a shock of adrenaline at the unexpected pleasure of his actual voice.
"Yeah, just got home. I'm completely beat but ... I ah. I wanted to call you."
She smiled and tucked herself down into the blankets, drawing them up over her shoulders as she settled back into the warmth. "Not gonna lie, that's pretty awesome to hear," she murmured. "I'm glad you're safe, though." Sleep was coming back, and with it, the complete lack of filter. "I missed you."
There was a long sigh on the other end, followed by a sound that could only be described as 'smiling'. "I missed you too, Lani."
"'m still pretty sleepy, though, don't hold it against me if I pass out on you."
He chuckled, a rich rolling sound that made her smile again. "As long as you don't blame me if I do the same."
"You in bed?"
"Yeah. Pretty much came home, locked the door, peeled off clothes and fell into bed. I'm usually far more tidy about that kind of thing but I just ... couldn't." She heard shifting, the sound of a body settling under blankets, most likely. "Then I realized I really wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep, but again, I didn't look at the time."
"SB?"
"Yeah, Lani?"
"You can call me any time. Even if I'm sleeping. Okay?"
"...Okay. Thank you."
"Told you; it's alright if it's you. Just as long as you don't mind the swearing. Sometimes that happens."
He chuckled again. "I don't mind it, I don't do it much myself, though."
Lani couldn't help it; she giggled. "That's pretty adorable in a soldier, SB."
"...Steve."
Her lips curled in a smile, pleasure warming her through to her toes. She sighed, soft and pleased. "Steve," she murmured.
He hummed in satisfaction, the sound almost indecent. "I like the sound of that, your voice saying my name."
God dammit, she thought, that warmth burning into something more sharp, settling unbidden between her thighs. "Yeah?" she breathed, rolling to her back. "Just like this?" She shivered, dropped the pitch of her voice just as her free hand strayed along her own hips. "Steve..." The last syllable caught; suggestive, enough so that it made her blush to hear it.
Silence on the other side; a rush of air revealed he'd been holding his breath.
"God, woman, have mercy and don't do that," he groaned softly. "I'm .... I've got no defenses when you say it like that."
Another giggle from her, Lani opting for said mercy as she drew her hand away from herself. Another time, maybe, but yeah. Too soon. "I won't apologize. I'm a salacious hedonist and I'm pretty out of it; someone woke me up."
His laugh was relieved, something in him relaxing just before he yawned. "...hmm, yeah, not a nice someone. Permissions aside, I'm sorry about that."
She yawned too. "I like it when you do it," she murmured in reassurance. "If I can't answer, I won't, but ... yeah. I like it when you wake me up. It's ..." She struggled, trying to think of the right word, but Steve saved her.
"Intimate?" he offered quietly.
Another soft sigh from Lani, curling back on to her side, the phone tucked between her pillow and her ear. "Yeah. Intimate. Like ... a hand on my shoulder in the dark, wordless. Safe." Sleep was surging up, she mumbled something apologetic. "Dunno if that makes sense."
"No, it does. I ... yeah. It does. Conjures up a few images, though. Nice ones, just ... yeah." The sound of a bed creaking as Steve, too, shifted. "It's snowing," he said after a few moments of quiet.
"Mm-hmm," she agreed. "Hisses against the roof." Her eyes were closed now. "'s why it's so cold."
"You're cold?" he asked softly.
"A little," she mumbled. "Warming up, though. Have like ... four comforters on me."
"No heater?" He sounded concerned.
"Old house, brownstone that's about a hundred years old. Shit for insulation. Forgot to plug in the standing heater before bed. 'm okay, though. Chubby ladies are good at that." She chuckled as she tugged the blankets up further, until only her hair strayed above the edge. She really was getting warmer, and sleepier. "... be nicer if you were here."
He went quiet. Lani started to doze.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, it would be."
"Gotta sleep naked though."
He choked, laughing, the sound bright and sudden, enough to rouse a grin from Lani. "You really are a tease," he chuckled.
Her grin colored her words, even as her eyes remained shut. "Why, Steve. Teasing suggests I won't follow through. Promise; I'm gonna follow through, if you let me."
Lani woke up the next day to her phone buzzing under her cheek and a puddle of drool. She rolled to her back and grumbled, wiping at her face as she rubbed her phone on her blanket at peered at the screen, only to blush furiously when she remembered what had happened.
He'd called her. SB- ...no, Steve, had called her, while the snow came down in the wee hours, they'd talked and flirted and... and...
"Oh my god," she groaned. "I fell asleep."
There were a few texts in the dating app, time-stamped ... three hours later?
SB: Don't apologize, I know you're thinking about it. You fell asleep, you told me not to hold it against you. To be honest, I dozed off too a little later. You didn't snore, I could barely even hear you breathing.
SB: And I told you, I'm pretty new to all of this. Hearing you breathing, it was more of that thing, that intimacy. It was soothing to listen. I may have taken advantage and slept for a bit. After a mission, sometimes it's hard to relax enough to go back to sleep after that initial crash. Listening to you helped me get back to sleep.
SB: I'm realizing now, after reading that, that it could potentially be creepy.
SB: When you wake up, put me out of my misery? Was it creepy?
Lani smiled, sitting up in the weak light of the morning, the sun peering through her curtains, a pearl in the wintry, overcast sky.
LLC: No, Steve. It wasn't creepy. Can you call me later today? I liked talking to you, I'd like to do it when I'm not half awake.
"We gotta stop meeting like this."
Lani laughed, wireless earpiece freshly installed, testing it on a phone call from Steve. "What, after midnight on the phone? In bed?"
"Doesn't that annoy you?" She'd just talked him into getting a wireless headset or similar, but he still didn't sound convinced. "I mean, I don't know about you, but we just can't seem to talk during the day, text or otherwise."
"Eh, not really. My days are usually busy, and we've got shit luck for overlapping days off. Do you get those? Days off?"
There was a rustle of fabric, a muffled, 'hang on' before his voice came back in full.
"What was that?" Lani asked. "Fall into your blankets?"
"Ha, no. I was pulling off my shirt, and ... ugh, I gotta do some laundry soon."
She cleared her throat. "So you're saying you're topless?" she teased, trying not to grin, failing, her heartbeat picking up.
Steve's laugh was sudden and awkward. "Ah, yeah, just... let me look for a sleep shirt-"
"-don't," she said, only to laugh herself at her abrupt protest. "Ahem. I mean. You don't have to."
"Oh?" He was smiling again. She could hear it.
"Yeah," she said, feeling a little breathless as she climbed into bed.
It was quiet on the other end. She could hear him moving.
"Are you ... getting ready for bed? Like ... how you usually do?"
Sheepish, she giggled. "No, it's cold. Here-" The camera was easy enough to pull up, snapping a quick picture and sending it to him.
"-what? Oh, hang on-" he said, and then- "Oh. I ... wow." His voice was a little quieter; she suspected he'd drawn back to look at what she'd send him. "That's ... nice. I like the lace at the sleeves."
"It's mostly cotton, snug and comfortable." The nightgown went to the elbows but left her shoulders bare, edged along the neckline in cotton lace, pretty and practical, stopping at mid-thigh, which, thanks to angles, he could see in the picture. Despite that, it was still pretty decent. "Too cold to go naked."
"Yeah, I can see that."
Confused for a moment, she looked at the picture she took, then promptly flushed. "Oh, god, I didn't see that when I sent it-"
"-please, for the love of all that's good, don't apologize for ... being cold in that picture."
Laughing, Lani sighed and snuggled down into her blankets. She was still giggling when she set the phone on her bed. "I don't mean to tease, I swear. And ... I don't do the nude-picture thing."
"That sounds like a good idea, given how open the internet seems to be. I hear about hacking stories and information theft all the time. Actually, it's a really great idea, not sending naked pictures of yourself. I'd rather you not share that with anyone else."
Lani smirked, waiting for his brain to catch up with what he'd just said.
"...I mean, not that you're mine or anyone's and really, what you do with your body is your own business and if you wanted to- ... it's none of my business, I just meant ... dammit, Lani, are you there?"
Pulling her hand from her mouth, laughter in her voice, she said, "I'm sorry, I can't help it, you do that thing and it's just so fucking adorable-"
They talked about small things, teased each other. Flirting was slow with Steve, Lani noticed. She didn't mind that at all, they'd been talking for over a month now, through text and now in the last few days over the phone. Most of it was getting to know each other, sharing stories, a bit of salacious teasing tucked in here and there. As the evening wore on, though, and sleep tickled the edges of her awareness, Lani grew bolder.
"I don't really want to send you nudes anyway," she mumbled after a yawn, tucking herself deeper into her blankets. She'd remembered the space hater this time thanks to Steve's tactful reminder. The room was still cold but it wasn't as bad as the night the snow storm hit. "It's not my style, for one, and for another-" She paused to stretch, grunting softly before relaxing back into her mattress. "-I'd rather do that kind of thing in person."
His voice was soft, tense at the edges. "Showing me in person?"
Lani shivered, heat prickling across her skin; something about how he said it: anxious, eager. Wanting. She exhaled slowly, her breath a touch tremulous. She didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry. Did I go too far...?" he offered, a little worried, rueful-sounding.
"No, oh no," she murmured. "Just took me by surprise is all. You're a gentleman, Steve, but when you ... say things like that, like you want me, it ah ... it kind of takes my breath away." Her cheeks grew warm; she chuckled at herself. "For all that we met on a dating app, we're rather slow about this, aren't we?"
"Maybe," he chuckled. "But I don't really see that as a bad thing. Do you?"
"No," she said quietly, smiling. "It's nice to hear, though."
"What? Which?"
"That you want me."
It was his turn to exhale, long and slow. "Do you doubt it?"
She licked her lips, pleasant anxiety curling through her veins like a tickle of sensation. "I want to see it," she murmured. "I think I do, hints, but-"
"I want you, Lani."
Her breath caught. She was trembling. "Leilani," she whispered.
"I'm sorry?"
She huffed, blushing. "My full name. It's Leilani."
He went quiet.
Then, a husky whisper, "Leilani."
She couldn't quite catch the moan before it left her lips, pressing them together a half second too late.
"...what was that?"
"Nothing, nothing, just... god. That was hot."
"What was hot, Leilani?" His voice was pitched low. Lani swore.
"You're doing it on purpose now," she grumbled, squirming further into her blankets.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Only if you're not prepared for the response."
"What kind of response is that?"
"Steve, I'm an inch away from touching myself over the stupidly sexy way you say my name."
He coughed on the other side, startled. Lani grinned.
"See?" she teased. "The real reason to go hands-free."
His spluttered, startled laughter had her joining in in no time, covering her mouth with her hand even though Tiffany was in the basement, coding her heart out.
"Wow, I ... yeah, I don't know what to say to that," he remarked, sighing.
"Why do you need to say anything?"
"It's ... ridiculously sexy, I just ... this is still all pretty new to me."
"What is? The concept of phone sex?"
"Christ, you just put it out there, don't you?"
"Ah, you've got me when it's late, I'm not tired yet but I'm close enough that the filter between my brain and my mouth is off for the night. I guarantee you, tomorrow? I'll stare at your chat window and write an apology and delete it five times over before I decide whether or not to hit 'send'."
"So you aren't normally this bold?"
"No. But ... I suspect if I spoke to you in the middle of the day ..."
"Yeah?"
"I'd devolve into it eventually."
She really liked how he laughed, especially when it was unfettered, like she'd genuinely surprised him.
"So," he began a little later, when they'd both calmed back down. "How does one go about doing that?"
"Doing what, Steve?" she asked sweetly, grinning.
"Argh. You know. The ... phone sex thing."
"You've really never done it before?"
"You're mocking me, I can feel it."
"Actually, I'm not, promise. Just kind of surprised, I suppose." She shifted in her bed, moving to her back and silently giving praise for hands-free technology. She cleared her throat, her hands drawing down her soft belly, her wide hips. "It's ... a combination of audio feedback and dirty talk, really." Explaining it clinically seemed to be the best angle. "Like, talking about what we wish we could do, or would do, with that person, responding to it if it arouses, talking about it more if you want."
"Oh."
She fiddled with the edge of her nightgown under the blankets, wondering if-
His voice was rougher when he spoke, just as quiet as before, as he said, "Does telling you that I want to run my mouth along the curve of your shoulder to your neck, count?"
Lani shivered, skin prickling right where he threatened to lay his lips, like he was there and on the verge of doing just that. Her response was breathless, control a little rattled: "Y-yes, definitely."
"I look at that first picture a lot, you know. That's my favorite place to start, when I think about being around you."
She stayed quiet, listening, eyes widening in the darkness of her bedroom.
"You're so soft. I see it, and I imagine how soft you'd be when I kiss your skin, hold your face in my hands and brush your lips with my thumb. You have the most generous lips I've ever seen, Leilani-"
She moaned again, unable to keep it back-
"-and I can't wait to kiss them, taste them, maybe even nip at them-"
Her hand dropped to press between thighs that were spreading, feeling herself respond to his imagery. -and it's just a description of a kiss...!
"-and pull at the blanket on your chest and kissing down, exploring your skin. You're so beautiful, Lani, the color of fresh cookie dough. I keep thinking about things I shouldn't, like what your soap smells like on your skin, how your hair would feel in my hands..." He paused, inhaling sharply. Lani wondered what he was doing over there, in his bed, craving the knowledge like something potent. "...what you look like when you blush, what the color of your skin means for the rest of you, the intimate parts of you."
"-oh my god," she whimpered. The hand between her thighs pressed harder. She was on the verge of panting.
"Are your nipples dark?" he whispered hotly into the phone, and Lani felt dizzy with how fast he was catching on to this. "How about, lower? I want to know, I want to learn, Lani, I want to see..."
She moaned softly, feeling her spine curl above the bed. She'd done this before, ten, twenty times with half as many people, but this one, this man, he was ... How is he doing this to me? she thought, lost in a kind of blissful panic. Fingers slipped between hot skin, finding herself feverish and slick. She whined.
"Lani? Are you alright? What is it?" Concern in his voice, even if he seemed a little breathless himself.
"... do you have your hands on yourself, Steve?" she whispered into the quiet of her bedroom.
He grunted, wordless, silent for a moment. There was a rustle of fabric, and then a tight, soft, aching moan filtering through her earpiece. Beneath her fingers, the subtle slickness grew and Lani felt her hips buck minutely against the bed.
"I do now," he mumbled. "How about you? Are you-"
"'m so hot, Steve," she whimpered. Over his groan, she continued: "Wet, wanting you here, your hands on me-"
"God, yeah, me too, doll, me too-"
"Nipples are darker, a little pink," she whispered, taking over where he left off. "Not pink, in other places. Red, ruby, darker."
He swore. She'd never heard him swear before; she took it as a compliment, her chuckle breathless.
"Lani, Lani ... tell me about your body. Your silhouette picture, your hips... god, your hips look like I could grab on, lose myself in them-"
"Fuck, Steve, yes-"
"-I'd take you slow, Lani-"
Startled, she keened, her fingers sliding inside of her, crooked up as she rocked against her pillows.
"-Christ, woman, what are you doing-"
"-don't stop, Steve, tell me... tell me more, take me how?"
His voice grew a little louder, like he was pressing his mouth closer to the receiver, a growl edging his words.
"Slow, I said, slow and deep. I want you to feel me, I want to feel how deep I can go. You're beautiful, Lani, big hips, full, gorgeous ass; you look like you can take all of me, Lani. Can you? Can you take all of me?"
Her hand worked between her legs, kicking off her blankets. "Fuck, Steve, yes-"
"-make you come for me, on me, going slow like that, even, draw you along like a ship to shore, I'd watch you fall apart, feel you crumble around me-"
She whined; fingers pressed deeper, harder. "Fuck-" She was close. She was already close. Her other hand fisted in the blankets, her thighs starting to shake.
"Lani, Leilani, you sound like you could come right now. Can you? Can you come from right now, doll? I wanna hear you baby, I wanna hear you come for me."
A knee lifted, her heel planted in the bed. "Steve-" she cried out.
"Come, Leilani." He was panting. She could hear him moving in the background. "So I can fuck you hard, as hard as I want while you break around my cock, god, Lani, please, come-"
She broke with a shout, jerking against her hand, a flood of moisture around her knuckles as she clenched around her fingers. Her hips lifted off the bed, rolled up to buck, hard, into an erection that wasn't there, coming and yet unsatisfied, wanting more, wanting him. She heard him grunt, a rapid series of rough groans before she heard him, too, find his release.
A snarl wrapped around her name, needy, hungry, drawing out her own orgasm until she lay on her bed trembling, covered in sweat, fingers sticky, panting and whimpering in the wake of that sudden, heady rush.
He was breathing hard too, so sharp and loud in her headset, she could almost feel his breath on her skin. The very idea had her arching against the bed again, an aftershock burning through her; she moaned.
His answering groan was gritty. "Don't.... don't do that, woman, I'll start up again."
Her breathless laugh was met with one of his own. "Copy that," she murmured, sighing as the last of the ripples faded away, leaving euphoric bliss in its wake. "Wow, Steve. Are you sure you haven't done that before?"
He huffed, a smile in his words. "That a compliment, ma'am?"
"My thighs are still shaking. So, yes."
There was no awkwardness in the aftermath, the progression of things natural, comfortable at the pace the pair had set. Lani curled up on her side as they talked about nothing; her only regret was that he wasn't there touching her and drawing her close, as he said he wanted to do as he, too, felt sleep pull on him.
"Gotta say," he murmured. "See the appeal of the hands-free headpiece. And ... everything else."
Lani's laugh was sleepy but genuine. "That really is not why I suggested it."
"Liar."
"It isn't!"
"Uh-huh."
"Dammit, Steve. Go to sleep."
"I will in a minute, don't worry."
She smiled into the phone. His breathing was even; he sounded relaxed.
"...but not yet," he added.
And he didn't sleep, at least she didn't think so; she passed out first. She suspected that had been his plan all along, so he could sleep to the sound of her breathing.
"What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked a day later.
Lani readjusted the earpiece before going back to washing dishes. "Ah, Thursday? Nothing. I only teach Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."
"You're teaching? What do you teach?" Steve was a little out of breath; he was running this evening, their phone call starting earlier than normal for it. While the sound of him breathless was distracting, she rather liked the extra time to talk.
"It's nothing official," she explained, scrubbing at a pot. "Not like a school. I teach at the shop I work in, watercolor and color theory."
"Art classes?"
"Yeah, I figured since I can't make anything I'm happy with, maybe I can teach other people to." She winced. "Argh, that sounded like self-pity. It's not. It's frustration."
He chuckled; in the background, she could hear feet on pavement, a rapid gait that seemed at odds with how easy he was breathing. "I don't know much about art, but I go by the Smithsonian whenever I'm in D.C. I get a little lost in all the exhibitions, I forget sometimes to look at their art collection."
"You should!" Lani exclaimed. "I went on a field trip in high school, ages ago, and I still remember how amazing their collection was." She sighs, a little longing edging her words. "I wouldn't mind going again."
"Maybe we can go together."
Her cheeks tingled, Lani felt herself grin as she ducked her head. "Yeah? I'd like that."
Moments of silence and the sound of running filled her ears for a bit as she finished up her chore, washing her hands and toweling them off.
"So. About tomorrow night?" she said, pausing to dig into the fridge for something to drink.
"What? Oh, right! Ah... well, i-it turns out, I'm going to be home for a few days, starting tomorrow. I was wondering if it'd be too presumptuous to ask you out." A beat. "On a date. A real date." Another pause. "In person."
Lani was silent, but only because she was bouncing in place, beaming with excitement. Settling back on her heels with some effort, she managed to clear her throat overly casual-like.
"I would love that."
An expulsion of breath; he'd been holding it again. Lani giggled.
"Awesome! I mean... well, I know this place. It's kind of like a speakeasy? That's a-"
"Steve."
"Right, no, right, I forgot. Anyway, I'll send you the address. It's a little fancy, you can dress up if you want."
"Will you be 'dressing up'?"
"...do you want me to?"
Lani worried at her bottom lip, imagining the man on the other end, with blue eyes and a voice like warm butter, a man who ran with ease and lived the life of a soldier.
Oh man. Slapping a suit on that-...?
"Yes. Yes, absolutely."
He laughed, the sound both relieved and shy.
"Yeah. Alright. I'll do it if you do it."
"What's your rank?"
"Captain, ma'am."
Lani laughed. "It's like instinct, isn't it?"
Chagrined, Steve chuckled. "A bit, yeah."
"Well then, Captain. I'll be there with garters on. Wear a hat."
A muffled grunt that sounded suspiciously like a groan. "Yeah. I'll send you the address."
For about the hundredth time, Lani agonized over what she saw in the mirror.
She was shorter than most women, five-foot-four, with a very thick hourglass figure, thick thighs, wide hips, modest in the chest by comparison. She couldn't decide whether or not she should let her hair loose or pin it up, putting up her glasses in favor of contacts. Her make-up was subtle, her full-lips a warm hue not too far from her natural coloring. Her mother's pearls dangled from her ears, peeking through her loose tresses as she fussed over the flowers she wanted to put in her hair.
Traditionally, flowers were put over the left if your heart was unavailable, and Lani blushed at that; the struggle was, she liked Steve. Did that mean she was unavailable to anyone else? Or should she put the flowers over her right, demonstrating her openness to him?
I am thinking way too god-damn much about this, she lamented, finally opting to put flowers over both ears. Ok. That doesn't look too bad.
It did mean leaving her hair down was the best option.
Thick curls ran down to her waist, framing her face and spilling down her back, the blue-with-white-kind-of-polka-dots dress embracing her figure. Based on 40s dance dresses, with a flared skirt and a sweetheart neckline, she was pretty happy with how it looked, sweeping over her hips to just above her knees, flaring out in a wealth of fabric that swirled when she walked. Her shoes, mary-jane pumps in gleaming patent leather, sported four inch heels that clicked satisfyingly when she walked, her stockings held in place with garters, black lace and confidence-evoking; it was Lani's opinion that thick thighs looked amazing in stockings, and hers were no exception.
With all that, though, she still agonized, twisting this way and that, pulling off her necklace to leave her throat bare, fussing over her eye-makeup, reaching for her coat on her bed.
"Holy shit, woman. You look like sex on a stick," Tiffany remarked from Lani's doorway. In these shoes, Lani was taller than Tiffany when normally the pair were pretty evenly matched. "Does he know he doesn't deserve you?"
Lani blushed, laughing, leaning down to kiss Tiffany's temple. "Oh, don't fuss, this is the good smudge proof stuff," she teased as Tiffany rubbed furiously at her brow. "Didn't so much as mark you, promise." Which was the whole point; if kissing happened, well-
"You got the address?" Tiffany asked. "Cab just pulled up."
"Shit, yeah I do," Lani murmured, pulling on her coat and tucking up the collar, wallet and phone shoved in her pocket. At the door to their home, she lingered their, looking from the cab to Tiffany, worrying at her bottom lip. "Tiff-"
"You look fucking amazing, woman. If he doesn't fall, hook-line-sinker? It wasn't meant to be."
Relief fluttered through Lani; she took a deep, slow breath and gave her best friend a bright smile. "Thanks, Tiff."
"Knock him dead, girlfriend."