Bebe clutches her tennis shoes to her chest as she tiptoes past Jay’s bedroom. Her white ankle socks muffle her footsteps she sneaks along the dark hallway, down the rickety staircase, and through the restaurant to the front door. It’s an uncomfortable sort of thrill, being in the restaurant late at night, lights off and refrigerators humming to themselves. She doesn’t dare put her shoes back on until she’s outside, and then she jams her feet back in as quick as she can, sitting on the curb with her skirt rucked up around her thighs. It’s a little chilly outside, and she didn’t think to bring a sweater, but the cold isn’t the only thing that has her rushing. She runs to the edge of the lot, looks both ways for headlights, then sprints across the dark highway. And from there, it’s just a five minute brisk walk to the house she’s looking for, and she bounds up the steps breathlessly, the soles of her shoes slapping against the creaky wood porch. The front door is unlocked, like always, and she’s barely stepped inside before Louis’ got his arms around her, strong and sure.
“Missed you,” she gasps as he kisses her neck. He’s got one hand low on her ass, and it feels like an invitation, so she recklessly leaps into his arms, legs snug around his waist, and he backs her up against the door. He’s fucking holding her up with his body, his biceps tensing beneath her fingers, and she feels like she could fly right through the ceiling.
“You saw me a few hours ago,” he says with an easy smirk, nudging her nose with his until she tilts her head so he can kiss her. It’s not the same, and he knows it. She sees him all the time, sees him at work, sees him at Jay’s, sees him teasing his sisters or holding his kid’s hand when they walk across the lot to have lunch together. But he never really feels like hers during the day.
They haven’t told anyone about the two of them these last couple months, is the thing. They’re not exactly subtle about it, but they’re not official either. Bebe doesn’t know how long she’s staying in town for, and Louis has a son, and Bebe has to work with Jay, and it’s just complicated. Neither of them are really ready to share this with anyone else who would make them define it, package it up into some neat little relationship box. Bebe doesn’t need that. She doesn’t. She loves it like this, easy and hot, their own shared secret, for however long it lasts.
“Missed you,” she insists weakly. “You know I always do.”
“You know I missed you too,” he says quietly. He meets her eyes just for a second with his piercing, unwavering gaze. It takes her breath away, the way he can be so teasing one moment and so serious the next. And then he’s kissing her, measured and slow and intentional. It feels private, like he’s trying to know her, like he already does. It’s her favorite way to be kissed by him.
“Lou,” she whispers against his lips. “Lou, take me to bed.”
“You’re so eager for it,” he says, his voice low and sweet like honey. “Didn’t even change out of your uniform before you ran over here, did you?”
“I didn’t,” she agrees, and then she gasps as his hand slips up her thigh, fully under her skirt. She had time to change, she really did, but she never does. She knows it drives him wild to just push her skirt right up and get at her, and she likes it, too.
“Are you desperate, darlin’?” he asks.
“I’m not the only one,” she says, and she loosens her legs around him just slightly, just so she sags in his arms, and when she wiggles her hips, she can feel his dick getting harder against her ass.
“Fuck,” he says with a sharp exhale.
“Take me to bed,” she whispers. “Give me what I want, Lou.”
“Don’t I always?” he says with a crooked smile. “You know I can’t resist you.”
She’s still getting used to this. The idea that he’s as gone for her as she is for him. She’s head over heels crazy about him, has been for months, and it’s still so weird and thrilling that he likes her, too.
“Put me down,” she says. He does, and his hand lingers under her skirt just a moment, just enough to get a good handful of her ass. He gives her a squeeze and a little smack that makes her giggle.
Her body’s been changing, bit by bit. Too much fried food and pie and sticky sweet milkshakes, no more of those fad diets and juice cleanses she'd researched on the internet when she was preparing for LA. Her stomach is softer now, and her hips and thighs are getting wider, and these last few days, she’s noticed her neckline gaping a bit over her tits. It’s strange how little she minds. Because she minds a little, but she doesn’t mind a lot, and Louis doesn’t mind at all. He’s still got his head between her legs every chance he gets, still bites down on her thighs like he wants to make a meal out of her, still gets that look of wonderment on his face every time he gets his hands under her shirt and palms her breasts. He always touches her like she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever had his hands on, and slowly, she’s learning to revel in that.
“May I take the lady upstairs?” he asks with a grin, taking both of her hands in his, and she smiles. He does that sometimes, playing at being a gentleman, but she knows better.
“You could probably take the lady right here if you wanted,” she says coyly. “You could take the lady in every room of this house, I bet.”
“I have taken the lady in every room of this house,” Louis says, walking backwards towards the stairs, her hands still in his. She follows him, deliberately swinging her hips, and his eyes get stuck in their cadence like slow, sweet molasses.
They stumble up the stairs and into his room. The lights are already on, and the bed looks freshly made, clean sheets and everything. He’s normally messy as all get out. He’s making an effort, she realizes, and her heart is a thousand butterflies in her chest. She toes off her shoes and places them neatly by the door, and then she runs her socked foot up and down his calf.
“Well, you lured me up here,” she says. “What’re you gonna do with me?”
“Everything,” he says simply, and before she realizes it’s happening, he’s scooped her up and is carrying her over to the bed. It made her nervous the first time it happened, because she didn’t know if he’d be able to hold her weight. But he’s wiry and compact from his work, and the muscles in his arm look like someone chiseled them from marble, and he would never, ever drop her. In his arms, she feels weightless. He easily walks across the room and deposits her on the bed. She scooches backwards and lies down, and he eases himself down on top of her, his hips bracketing hers, his dick hard and obvious against her. He stops with his face a few inches above hers, just stops and looks at her a minute.
“Kiss me,” she says. “Lou, kiss me.” She reaches for him but he evades her grasp, slippery as anything, pecking just a brief kiss to her lips before slithering down her body. He gives her knee a squeeze as he pushes his head under her skirt and kisses her high up on her thigh. He’s insatiable, and he likes teasing her this way, going down on her while she’s still wearing all her clothes, licking her out from under her skirt where she can’t even watch him work or see what he’s going to do next. All she can do is screw her eyes shut and let him, and she does. She feels him push her panties to the side, and one of these days she’s gonna leave home without them, just show up as usual and see how long it takes him to figure it out. But now he’s getting them out of the way so he can get his mouth on her, and she feels his hot breath for just a moment before he’s got his tongue on her, soft and wet, a gentle flicker that leaves her whining for more.
She didn’t know it could be like this. When she’d imagined her sexual future, she always thought it would be the same sort of adequate sex she’d been having before, just with progressively older guys, until she married one of them, and then they’d get older together. She’s only ever been with boys, is the thing, and Louis is such a man that’s she giddy with it. He has a job and a family and a kid. He knows a trade, and he lives alone in his own house, and he can fix mostly anything. He’s muscular and strong, and he smells like beer and cigarettes most nights. He’s all grown up and self-sufficient, and he knows who he is and what he wants. And he wants to worship her, and he knows how to do that, too. She didn’t know there would be gentleness. She didn’t know there would be selflessness. She didn’t know that being manly could still leave so much room for being soft.
He eats her out until she’s shaking from it, until all she can hear is the wet wet sound of his open mouth against her cunt, until she’s leaked so much that he’ll surely have to change the sheets again. He digs his fingers hard into her thighs, but she still overpowers him when she comes, clamping down on his head and rocking against his mouth as she rides out her orgasm. When she manages to catch her breath and relax her grip, he pops his head out from her skirt, grinning and messy. He wipes his face off on her apron, which is half the reason she leaves it on when she comes over. Still, she rolls her eyes at him disapprovingly, because that’s her part in this.
“That’s what it’s for,” he says as he crawls back up her body.
“That’s not what it’s for,” she says. “What kind of diner do you think we’re running?”
“I don’t know,” he says, “but the new waitress is a real knockout. You should see the tits on her.”
“You should see the tits on her,” Bebe says, unbuttoning her dress. “You should see them real close up.”
He pushes her hands away and finishes with the buttons, and then he pushes down her bra straps and gets his hands on her. He knows what he wants, and he takes it, but it’s not the way it was with boys in high school, just grabbing at her, making her tits flop around and feel like something separate from her body, something that became theirs and not hers. When Louis touches her, she feels sexier under his hands. He touches her knowingly, confidently, reverently. He finishes undressing her and then shrugs out of his own clothing, fishing out a condom from the pack next to the bed. She loves how brazen he is with it, the way he just leaves his condoms right out in the open, like it’s not something to be ashamed of. He’s an adult man who has sex, and he doesn’t have to hide that away in some drawer like she’d always thought was proper. She’s learning so much about herself every day.
When he fucks into her, he closes his eyes and bites his lip, like it’s too much, like she’s too much and he can’t bear it. She gently pushes the hair from his face, her fingertips just barely skimming over his flushed skin, and she presses light kisses to his jaw. He takes care of her, and she takes care of him. The first time they ever kissed, he asked her if she was real, and his eyes ask her that every time they blink open, like he’s waking up from a dream but she’s still real, and he can’t believe it.
After they both come, she curls up with her head on his chest, listening to his constant, dependable heartbeat. He idly plays with her hair, twisting the strands up and then combing them straight again with his fingers. She usually cleans up and then leaves, sneaks back into Jay’s so that she can be up early for the breakfast shift. But tonight, she doesn’t want to go. She looks up at Louis, and he smiles down at her, cupping her cheek with his hand.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are to me?” he murmurs. She’s about to respond, but he clears his throat and says, “Anyway, I was looking at your car earlier today.”
“My car?” she repeats. She hasn’t driven in months, ever since the old thing died. Louis would probably let her borrow his truck if she asked, but she can’t drive stick, so he just takes her anywhere she needs to go. She’s almost forgotten she even had a car.
“Think I could track down some parts, if you wanted me to. It would take some time, finding the right ones for a good price, but I could look into it. And then just fix it up in my spare time. If you wanted.”
“You want to fix my car?”
“You can’t get to LA without a car,” he says, his eyes focused on nothing in particular.
“I don’t want to go to LA,” she says. She hasn’t given it much thought in a while, but as she’s saying it, she realizes that it’s true. “I love you for offering, but I want to stay.”
“I want to stay,” she repeats, more firmly.
“No, you...you said….”
“I said I love you,” she says, very softly. It’s something she’s been thinking in her head for so long that she forgot she wasn’t supposed to say it out loud. “Don’t be weird about it.”
A smile breaks out across his face like that moment when dawn becomes day and light floods the sky, like something brilliant has finally gotten free and spilled over everything in its path.
“It’s not weird,” he says, stroking her cheek with the back of his index finger. “I love you, too, Bebe. You have to know I do.”
He ducks his head to kiss her, so soft and sweet she could cry from it. This is all too much. All she ever wanted was to get out of a small town, and now all she wants is to stay in this one, with this man.
They kiss for so long that they lose track of time, until eventually, Louis catches sight of the digital clock on his bedside table and says, “Shit, Bebe, do you have to get back?”
“I want to stay,” she says for the third time that night. “Can I, Lou? Is it okay if I stay here tonight?”
“You can stay here as long as you like,” he tells her, and she smiles at him, this beautiful, wonderful man she found when she wasn’t even looking. She might just stay forever.