Something a little bit darker this week…
The First Date
It may have been January, and it may have been furiously snowing on the other side of the drawn curtains, but Barney Johnson was hot. God damn he was hot. He shifted down his collar in a desperate attempt to relieve himself from the living room’s unbearable warmth. It didn’t work. Even now, Jenny was finding ways to royally piss him off.
Barney glanced at Jenny from across the darkened room; she slouched into the living room couch under the window, he just through the French doors at the dining table. He stared at her long, blonde hair, which glistened every so slightly under the glow of her father’s reading lamp. He appreciated the curves of her maturing body and the glorious length of her track team pins. Damn, those things went on forever. Barney imagined them sliding open, and him slipping down to claim the forbidden prize in between.
“Tell me ya love me, baby,” he groaned across the room, his breath laboured.
The lamp which created the soft glow on Jenny’s hair also cast a gloomy shadow across her face; Barney could not tell if she was asleep or just ignoring him.
“Baby, ya hear me? You love me, right?” He tried again. Still, nothing.
He forced himself up from the dining room table. The act took much more effort than it should have, especially for a professional athlete. Well, a boxer anyway. But, as far as Barney was concerned, this made him an athlete, even if he had more than let himself go lately. He still blamed Johnny Knox and that dirty cheap-shot in the fifth. The dirty, cheating, lucky bastard. Still, he’d tried to keep himself in shape the best way he knew how. Just ask Sammy Tippet, after Barney and a few pals had shared a workout with him last Friday. A couple of brewskies and a couple of uppercuts: the perfect Friday night. Barney recalled how cold it had been rolling around in the snow outside the Jurassic Joe’s in the wee small hours. Fuck, what he’d give for some of the Lord’s sweet dandruff at this precise moment. Now, Barney Johnson was so bloody hot he could barely breath, let alone get up from the dining room table. But he managed it, somehow, then ambled across the room to Jenny.
“Baby, I’m talking to ya.” He slumped down on the couch beside her, her svelte figure wobbling slightly as his considerable weight made an impression. Still, nothing replied but the tick-tock of Mrs Rollison’s clock.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
“It’s OK, baby, ya don’t have to say nuffin’.”
Barney ran his hand across the nape of Jenny’s neck, stretching out his fingers so they mingled in her hair. He leaned in closer and whispered in her ear, “It’s OK, baby, I don’t blame ya. I still love ya.” He leaned in and left a sloppy peck on her ear. Her skin’s icy feel felt so fucking good against his. Barney Johnson liked it.
“Damn, that feels so good, baby. Ya’re so good to me.” He spoke softly, as though not wanting to wake up his girlfriend, if he could call her that, he still wasn’t quite sure. “Even now, ya know how to push all me buttons.” The hem of her dress now riding up near her forbidden zone, Barney placed a warm, clammy hand on each of her snow-white thighs, groaning as hot skin met cold. He groped pleasurably, enjoying the chilly, fleshy relief, like gripping the can of an ice-cold beer on a hot summer’s day. “So goooood,” he groaned.
He pulled Jenny’s limp body across his lap, her pale complexion standing out so starkly from the couch’s red leather. She could easily be mistaken for a ghost. A fucking super-hot, cock-teasing ghost. Barney rested her head on his shoulder, allowing his long, chunky fingers to investigate every last inviting strand on her head. He allowed himself a long, lingering sniff, something he had wanted to do from the first day he saw her. Roses and cocoa, just like he had imagined. “I knew we’d be perfect for each other,” he whispered, before locking lips with the toned athlete’s shell. Her plump red lips, now slightly blue, offered no resistance. So cold, it was like taking the first sip of an ice-filled glass of soda. He resisted the hormonal urge – and the taunts of his friends in his head – to slip his tongue right down her frigid throat; it was their first date after all. One step at a time, he told himself.
First kiss complete, he rested her floppy head in his lap and began to stroke her pillow-soft hair, his eyes squeezed tight. “I knew we’d be perfect, and I think ya know it now, too. I know ya understand why I did what I done. Too many creeps out there, ya know. It’s best ya stay with me. I love ya so much, baby.”
“I know you do, Barney. I know you do.” Jenny said, her words filling his skull as though he wore headphones. “And I love you too.”
Barney smiled and placed a fervent kiss on her frosty forehead. “Ya’re the best.”
“But my parents will be back soon,” Jenny began, “I love you, but you’ll have to sort this mess out. If they find us…” Her words echoed in his head and Barney felt the heat inside him rise once more.
He wiped several beads of sweat off his own forehead with the sleeve of his sweaty shirt. Fuck, it was hot in here. Hotter than all god damn hell. “Oh shit, baby.”
Jenny Rollison was right. Annoyingly, she usually was. After all he’d done to make her his, her fucking parents would come home and ruin everything. Barney wasn’t having that. He wasn’t gonna let them take his Jenny-Bear away.
The first thing he’d have to do was figure out what to do with the body.