Black Pines Coffee Co.

[Lucky_XIII]

This thread is closed for MrAdam. Enjoy reading along!

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Andreina – or Andi, as she preferred to be called – settled herself into the bucket seat of her ’05 world rally blue Subaru WRX. Pushing in the clutch and brake with the white soles of her knee high skate shoes, she turned the ignition and heard a familiar purr in response. The dash lit up the pre-dawn darkness and the woman’s blue eyes glanced at the dull glow of the dash clock. Barely awake, she hardly had the presence of mind to pop the shifter into neutral before removing her feet from the petals. She gave a long groan as she slumped her body forward, striking the steering wheel with her forehead, producing a soft thud.

“Why?” she whined out loud to herself. It wasn’t quite 5 am in the morning – and here she was, preparing to leave for work. Her self pity quickly turned to a moment of rage towards her boss. “Fucking stupid goddamn son-of-a-bitch…” she muttered as she straightened her posture. She stared out the windshield, watching the snow that peacefully fell in front of her running lights. Andi would allow her car to warm up for a few minutes before pulling out of the driveway; she knew better than to trust herself to go back inside in the meantime. If she was late, it’d only give the boss/owner of her place of employment further reason to hate her.

Andi had been working the evening shift at the coffee shop for three years. It suited her well enough; the crowds were not nearly so demanding at such an hour, and most of the patrons that frequented the hipster joint in the evening were the type the woman could consider friends. Laid back artist types, meeting for a cup of overpriced joe with their peers. She loved listening to them discuss their work and often had the opportunity to hear songs and writings in the process of refinement. The customers were simply amazing and they had easily accepted Andi and her input on their projects like she was more than their servant barista.

Her comfort around Black Pines Coffee Co.’s patrons had been the reason for her present punishment. That, combined with her bold disregard for her boss. Andi had never been a ‘respectful’ employee, not by a long shot. But Brandon had always rolled with the punches, so to speak; Andi even dared to think he found a little enjoyment at her teasing back-talk. The other employees were…well. Better employees than her. Not to say that the woman wasn’t stellar at her job; she was. She was reliable, extremely detail-oriented, and she made one fucking awesome latte. The evening shifts had been handled by Andi alone; she didn’t need or want co-workers running around tripping up her work process. Aside from having noobs occasionally dropped off in her lap for training, she ran the shop solo from 4 pm to midnight.

But, alas, she had fucked up royally. She knew it wasn’t okay to call Brandon a bitch in front of their customers – but she did it anyway. He had stopped in to check on her, as he did on random occasion, and she had been sitting cross-legged on top of one of the circular tables as she listened to a dear patron strum his acoustic guitar while singing a sickeningly sweet ballad for some lady he loved. She didn’t love him back, of course. It was heart wrenching. Brandon had even waited for the show to be concluded before speaking, at which point he complimented the artist before insisting that Andi make the ‘boss man’ some coffee.

Andi turned to look at the Brandon, who was playfully smiling. He wasn’t a dick, really – though he seemed to have a bit of a chicken hawk condition (which is to say that he was a short, lithe man, and sometimes he needed to puff out his chest by calling himself ‘boss man’ or talking big in general). Andi’s expression was far less amused, and she quickly responded with, “Make it yourself, bitch. I’m busy.”

The customers, who knew Andi well enough to expect something like that to spew from her mouth, even looked a little shocked at the blatant disrespect. A few let their mouths hang open in the suspense of Brandon’s response. Needless to say, he hadn’t been pleased. It was first time Andi had seen a genuine rage in his eyes. She had been promptly been taken to the back, where she was informed that, despite the fact that Brandon should fire her on the spot, he’d settle to watch her suffer the morning shift for two months. Perhaps working with others would be good for her, he claimed, as she’d have an opportunity to observe how decent employees operated.

Ugh. Mornings. And the morning crowd! Fuck my life… Andi thought as she imagined the pompous asshole business crowd she’d have the ‘pleasure’ of serving.

She threw the shifter into reverse and started her drive. The mountain town she lived in was dead at this hour, as it should be. 4-something in the fucking morning! No one should have to wake up at such an ungodly hour…

It didn’t take long for her arrive at the back lot of Black Pines Coffee Co. And, as expected, Brandon’s car was the only other one present. Andi could see her boss talking on his phone in the driver seat, apparently to someone that was getting him nice and riled up to be pissed off for the rest of the day. Probably his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Why would she be awake? Bitch doesn’t even have a job… Andi thought to herself.

She parked and climbed out of her car. Pretending to not notice Brandon as she walked to the employee entrance, the woman could feel his eyes following her. She wondered how it was that he considered her when no one was looking.

Unceremoniously, Andi unlocked the back door and flung it open to admit herself. She clocked in on the front touch screen and immediately got to work – ditching her coat on the back of a chair in the break room and donning the required Black Pines Coffee Co. apron.

Brandon entered about five minutes later. Andi glanced in his direction as she set-up the front of house for opening. He was obviously not in a good mood; though he looked more worn than outwardly angry.

Whereas she had been prepared to be a pain in his ass, like any other day, she just couldn’t do it. “Good morning,” she managed with a soft smile. “What can I get for you?”

It struck her that she sounded like she was waiting on a customer – it was probably the first time she ever spoke to Brandon in such a way. He looked at her as if expecting some sort of ‘fuck you’ follow-up.

“You’re right, I know what you want,” she concluded. It would be impossible for her to not know Brandon’s favorite drink from his own establishment. She took several steps towards the man, reaching out to gently wrap her fingers around the thermos in his hand. She paused a moment as she looked into his eyes.

He wasn’t much older than herself – there was about a five year difference between them. Though their lives were vastly different, to say the least. Brandon had married young and devoted himself wholly to supporting his family, which led him to being an entrepreneur and financer of this establishment. He worked hard…which apparently left room for his wife to run around on him while claiming that it was his fault because he was never home. From what Andi had heard, anyway. Brandon had never spoken to her directly about his personal life…having such spread among the ever-flapping lips of the townsfolk was inevitable in their small town. Andi, meanwhile, was generally known for a complete lack of ambition and an inability to truly connect with other people. She spent her time away from work living the life of pretty pixels, gaming until dawn and sleeping until her next shift. Were it not for her job, she’d probably never talk to another person beyond her headset. Sure, she could fake nice if she was getting paid for it, but she generally hated humanity and turned to escapism to cope with how she felt about the world at large.

Andi considered the sharp features of Brandon’s face; he was so unbelievably handsome. The way she had acted towards him, in the beginning, had merely been her response to his appearance making her weak in the knees. But he was married…and Andi wasn’t a home-wrecker. While she didn’t want him to see her as ‘just another employee’ nor could she outright seduce him. So she had settled with being playfully aggressive towards him, which turned into her genuinely being mean at times when he caught her in a mood.

Speaking of.

“…Sorry about last night. I guess my bravado got the best of me.” The twenty-two year old’s hand lingered on the man’s thermos with a light grip, her fingers brushing lightly against his own in the moment before she actually took the steel mug into her possession. As she drew it away from him, her eyes averted as she distracted herself with the task of removing the lid. “Although, for the record? This is the most bullshit punishment I’ve ever endured. At least if you had opted to spank me, I could’ve slept more than three hours between shifts.”

She couldn’t resist raising her eyes to his to see his reaction. It wasn’t the first more obvious hint she had dropped towards him since his impending divorce became public knowledge; but, understandably, he had seemed under too much stress to pay Andi much mind. At least directly.

http://i.ytimg.com/vi/1hfIvx54Abc/0.jpg​

 

[MrAdam]

Incongruous. Yes, that was the word that best described the scene unfolding in front of him. Perhaps even incongruous-squared, Mr Martin Fisher, certified accountant, thought to himself. This down-at-heel diner with the stained floor, dated and battered furniture, and questionable lingering odour of deep fat frying was not a normal setting for a business meeting. Yet here he was, sat at the least unserviceable table, listening to the presentation of a business plan for the premises.

The boy – the man, give the lad his due – was spilling out words and figures and percentages and demographics, apparently impervious to the brooding scepticism that the sick man at his table was projecting at him in waves. Sure, his suit was smart and he was well turned out, but he looked like a boy playing at being a grown-up – perhaps presenting something for his high school Business Studies class. He was a handsome young man, polite and charming, but very young. His lack of height didn't help the overall impression – he was barely 5' 6” and slender with it. He took after his mother in that respect, as in many others. A disadvantage that age and experience could overcome, but for now, even his obvious presence couldn't counteract the impression of youth and inexperience. No underage drinking for you, young man. Unless someone else is buying.

But Mr Fisher was nothing if not professional, and tried to push his own preconceptions from his mind and follow the kid's.... man's business case. But in investment decisions you couldn't separate the plan from the man. Hell, he liked the kid. Always polite, always respectful. The sort of guy you'd trust to date your daughter – hell, the type of guy he was trusting to date his daughter. He'd even supported her against her mother when she wanted to transfer to a less prestigious college nearer home to be closer to him. But invest? That was another thing entirely, and fortunately conflict of interest got him out of having to make such decisions.

Conflict of interest, he thought, looking from sick father to boyish son. Hell of a thing.

The boy finished up, and turned to his father for the verdict he must surely already sense.
“I'm sorry, Brandon”, he wheezed, “But now just isn't the time... and just look at this place.”
“Sir...” he replied, turning to the accountant, addressing him out of habit as his girlfriend's father rather than as his father's accountant, “Mr Fisher. Would you agree that my numbers are fundamentally sound?”
“I studied this report yesterday, Brandon. I checked it three times to be sure. I think your income projects are optimistic, but you have some margin to be wrong and still break even. I see no missed assumptions or technical flaws or calculation errors.”
“You did well, son. But the answer is still no. Don't be downhearted, it's just that-”
“Mr Fisher, would you excuse us for a few moments?”
He looked across at the older man, who nodded his head.
“Thank you. We won't be a moment.”

The accountant stepped out into the cold, closing the door behind him, but remaining hidden, in earshot.

“Now, I've made my decision, and I'm not going to-”
Brandon cut him short. “You asked a lot of me, sir. You asked me to quit my course and come home. You ask me to look after your investments and your business and do your running around for you until you get better. You ask me to help look after the family. You ask me to finish my studies via some crappy distance learning programme. I want one thing in return, sir. I want the chance to succeed at something on my own. I want something that's mine – start to finish.”
His father's eyes narrowed, unaccustomed to anyone answering back. “And if I say no? Then what?”
Brandon shook his head. “Then nothing. I won't try to bluff because I don't want to make you call it and then I don't want to have to decide what to do next. I think you might be bluffing and trying to test me, but I'm not going to take that chance either. Some things aren't worth risking – not for this place, and not for the amount of money I'm asking you to invest.”
He nodded. “I'll talk to Martin about the projects and we'll see. I've invested enough in you and and John and Claire's education, so perhaps it would be misguided of me not to invest now. We'll see. Now, I need you to go over to the restaurant and check the bookings for the weekend....”

Seven years later

Brandon sat behind the wheel of his BMW, staring through the falling snow at the Black Pines Coffee Co.

He sighed. His mind drifted back as he ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. Could he have handled it any differently? Damn it, he always was too sensitive to slights or perceived slights about his status. The height thing again, but particularly from his early years in business when he was endlessly patronised and underestimated. But those errors on the part of others had helped him tremendously. Once he had made his own money, independently from his father's wealth, he got the respect his was due. And by the time the second stroke took the old man, no-one could doubt that Brandon had come into his own.

But all those trappings of success, those rewards, were gone or were under threat. His soon-to-be-ex wife Deborah had tired of him, or tired of him not around enough, or not working hard enough, or not being rich enough, or whatever this week's reason was. Either way, it was clearly his fault, not hers, not the tennis coach, and certainly not that fucking surgeon everyone-but-him knew she was fucking. Now she lived in the family home that his money and her impeccable-though-pricey-taste had built. While he lived in a one bedroom apartment above one of his businesses that he usually rented out to tenants and saw their two young children no more than a couple of times a week.

So yes, he was more sensitive than usual. More on edge. More unhappy. More in need of spending some quiet time at a place with such symbolic meaning. A place whose continuing existence, popularity, and profitability made him feel properly fucking vindicated. Brandon had said “let there be a classy, upmarket coffee shop selling only the finest beverages and light refreshments in relaxing and sophisticated and stylish if understated surroundings, and lo, there it was. And the customer saw it was good”. And parted with their money accordingly.

So in this of all places, she shouldn't speak to him like that. Replaying events again, he was pretty sure that the shocked reaction wasn't a response to his reaction, but to what she'd said. No way of laughing it off without appearing unacceptably weak. And that would have been halfway round this gossipy little town before he'd finished his coffee. Can't control his wife, can't even control his staff. Part of his brain kept telling him he should have sacked her on the spot. Ironic, really. He went in with a plan to offer her more responsibility and more money, happy at his own good idea and the chance to offer an opportunity to someone who deserved it, and ended up nearly firing her. Someone who, in spite of her grade school attract-attention-through-aggression approach to flirting, he had a bit of a soft spot for. The backchat and the sniping were prices worth paying for her diligence and competence, and damn it, for her company. There was something refreshingly straightforward about her – or at least about the version of herself she presented to the outside world – that made a nice change from the hidden agendas, passive aggression, and subtle insinuations and flattery that he had to put up with from other people in his life. From his wife most of all.

Talk of the devil, and the phone will ring.
“Deborah?” he said, coldly, answering it. “Good morning. Up bright and early. What can I do for you today?”
“Listen, I know you've got money hidden away somewhere. I'm instructing forensic accountants, Brandon. Forensic accountants. They're going to find it, and when they do, my lawyer is going to sue for a punitive settlement. Understand? So you may as well come clean.”
“And hello to you to. For the twelfth time, there are no hidden accounts. No offshore bank account, no stocks and shares, no secret deposit account, no secret deposit box, no treasure map, no Nazi gold. There is nothing to find.”
“That can't be all there is”
“That's all there is.”
“Where's the rest of it?”
“YOU spent it!” Brandon snapped. “No, now listen to me, listen” he continued, more conciliatory now. “Listen to me Deborah. I know I owe you. You're raising our beautiful kids, you ran the house, you quit college to come back with me when dad got sick, your work enabled me to go out and make money, your family contacts gave me a leg up, your sister's husband got us into the country club. I know, I get it. I'll do right by you and by our children. That's why you get the house and I'm living somewhere I'm embarrassed at the amount I used to try and charge in rent. Look, for whatever reason it's over between us, but I want it to be amicable for the childrens' sake and for the times we had together. It wasn't all bad, Deborah, and I don't want things getting bitter or poisonous.”
“Good. You know what to do, then. Declare the missing assets.”
“There ARE no missing-”
“You've still got the Aston Martin, haven't you?” she asked, accusatory.
“Yes, but it's hardly hidden. It's in the garage.”
“It's worth-”
“I know how much it's worth. But it's mine, Deborah. You can have your fair share. You can't have everything.”
“I don't know what kind of man can keep a car like that while his children go without”
“Without? Without what? No..... You know what? I'm done talking to you. I will swear by whatever you like that there are no hidden assets. If you want to waste your share – our children's share – on overpriced accountants and predatory lawyers who don't give a damn about anything except their fees, that's up to you. I'm done. Goodbye.”

He hung up. As he did so, he watched Andi cross the car park, studiously ignoring him. At least she had turned up for work – part of him wondered if she would. Even from a distance and dressed for the cold weather, she was undeniably attractive. You could have had her, you know, said the voice from the id, the voice inside of all of us that speaks of base desires. You could, almost certainly. Remember when she first started? You had a hot teenager working for you who was totally into you, and you could have had her, right there on the counter. Right about the time that Deborah was screwing the tennis coach because she was bored? You forgave her, though. You're a fucking idiot for forgiving her, and a fucking idiot for not having anything for the bitch to forgive you for – if she ever even found out.

Not true, though, he reminded himself. You did the right thing because it was the right thing. It would have been wrong to take advantage, and wrong to break the wedding vows. Because it's not about Deborah, but about being able to look yourself in the bathroom mirror in the morning. But he could still enjoy looking at the menu, in spite of his diet, and could still enjoy wildly improbable fantasies about taking the bratty brunette barista over his knee for a damn good and long overdue spanking. But a fantasy life was normal, and fine. It wasn't like she was the only one he thought about, and there was no danger of it getting out of hand. As long as lines weren't crossed he could face himself. Even now he was a free man in all but name, well.... old habits. Everything was such a mess at the moment.

Fuck my life.

He got out of the car and went inside the coffee shop. He had to handle the aftermath of what happened the previous night. At least she had turned up – part of him worried that she wouldn't, and that her outburst was the result of something else entirely – something he'd said or done, rather than just a miscalculation. He didn't need a grovelling apology, but some sign of contrition, and normal service could be restored. His offer would have to wait, perhaps for now, perhaps for ever. No guarantee she would have agreed anyway, more money or not. She was hardly the ambitious type. But if she wasn't sorry, he'd have to fire her. Things couldn't escalate, and there could be no repeat.

He decided to play things cool. Be quiet and non-committal, and let her do the talking.

“Good morning.. What can I get for you?”

Respectful, formal. Hint of a deferential smile... rueful perhaps? But there's probably a sting in the tail. He just raised an eyebrow, non-committal.

“You’re right, I know what you want,”

Good. No sting yet, then.

“…Sorry about last night. I guess my bravado got the best of me.”

He nodded. She was looking away tending to the flask, so he needed to say something.
“Joking and teasing is fine, but you went much too far last night” His voice was quiet, his tone one of more-in-sorrow-than-anger. “There can be no repeat. I hope you understand that.”

“Although, for the record? This is the most bullshit punishment I’ve ever endured. At least if you had opted to spank me, I could’ve slept more than three hours between shifts.” Andi looked up at him, eyes sparkling, looking for a reaction.

She got one. His eyes widened and his cheeks coloured, and he stared at her in astonishment for a moment. With a split second he considered and dismissed the possibility that she was serious, considered and dismissed the possibility of pulling her over his knee then and there, and considered and dismissed the possibility that she could somehow see into his imaginings. It did not take long for the most likely conclusion – that she was baiting him again, that this was the sting in the tail... so to speak – to be reached. But it took longer than it should, and she must have noticed his momentary fluster, though what she'd make of it he'd no idea. Fuck, She'd got to him. Twice in the space of a few hours she'd put him in a spot.

Brandon came as close to snapping as he had done in a long time.

“Andi....” he said, his voice low, but shaking with anger as she would never have heard from him before. “I cannot and I will not deal with your bullshit right now. If you want to keep your job, just give it a fucking rest, all right?”

He turned on his heel without waiting for his coffee, and strode out to his car.

 

[Lucky_XIII]

The playful expression melted right off of Andi's face as she witnessed Brandon's reaction to what had been a clumsy and indirect admission of her interest. It broke her heart to hear his words tremble with rage; her lips parted in the moment he finished speaking but she found herself too dumbstruck to formulate a reply. Brandon wasn't going to wait for one, either.

Andi unfroze as the metal door that guarded the employee entrance fell heavily upon its frame. She had managed to run off the owner of the establishment without even trying to, and she felt terrible for it. Whereas her mind processed the question of whether or not she should let the boss cool off, her feet had already carried her to the exit to follow him. She quickly set the man's coffee thermos aside before rushing outside.

He was but steps away from getting into his car. "Wait, Brandon, I didn't mean to--" The young woman's momentum had succeeded in bringing her directly behind the man, her words dying off just as she reached his back. She placed a hand on his shoulder in the hopes that such wouldn't push him into enrage mode. He turned towards her, the anger written across his lovely features being painfully evident.

Perhaps he was preparing to tell her to go fuck herself, or to rid himself of such a pain entirely by finally canning her. Andi's mind couldn't fathom the depths of what the man must be feeling - she had to admit that her perspective on his ongoing divorce was extremely skewed. His wife was a cheating cunt; Andi felt confident in the knowledge even though she had only met the woman a hand-full of times. Deborah wasn't much of a 'drink coffee at night' type, so it was rare to have her frequent the shop during Andi's shift...but there was always Christmas gatherings and the random freak incident. In his employee's mind, Brandon could only be so lucky as to get rid of her. That, and... Andi had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that she could be the one to make Brandon happy.

A snowflake fell on Andi's cheek, melting instantly against the flush that had spread over the woman's countenance. Only a brief moment had lingered in the time she considered Brandon's position and she was still uncertain what the best approach towards him may be. Somehow, she found herself executing the dumbest of her options.

Brandon's initial response to her mention of a spanking only served to encourage her hope, and she acted on it. She kissed him.

And not the feeling-it-out testing type of kiss. No, Andi's arm boldly wrapped itself around his shoulders while her alternate hand reached up to caress the side of his face, her full lips pressing against his with reckless abandonment. If he didn't shove her away outright, she'd attempt to deepen the kiss between them, seeking to explore his mouth with her tongue. Meanwhile, what had been essentially a tactic of 'throw yourself at him' caused for her breasts to brush up against his body, pushing against the layers of material that separated her skin from his chest.

Andi withdrew slowly, watching Brandon with a careful uncertainty.

"I...I don't want to make things any worse for you, Brandon. Or more complicated. I just..." she took a moment to find the words. "I just want to be there for you. I've always wanted..." She suddenly looked self conscious as she slipped her arm off of his shoulders. She glanced away briefly.

She returned her gaze to his. "I'm sorry, Brandon."

 

[MrAdam]

Brandon kept walking. Through the back kitchen, along the short corridor, through the metal outer door and out into the snow. You're a fucking idiot, he berated himself. You could just have laughed it off, or engaged in a bit of banter with her about not knowing a spanking was an option, or just ignored it, or just.... just anything except react like that. What the hell was wrong with him at the moment? He knew the answer to that one, and beating himself up wouldn't help. A plan started to formulate.... get into the car, drive off, come back later and apologise. Blame stress. Talk mysteriously about having some 'bad news'. Or be honest and blame the divorce. No shame in that, and surely not something that she wouldn't already have figured out. Being an adult and admitting that you're having a hard time isn't weakness, and it might even help smooth the recent bumps in their working relationship. She wasn't heartless and she wasn't insensitive – maybe she would respond positively to his taking her into his confidence a little more.... and maybe she would do the same in return. That would be no bad thing- Andi was the only person he'd ever met who managed to be both over-familiar in how she treated him and under-familiar in what she would share of her life outside work.

Clusterfuck though this was, it wasn't terminal. He'd just storm off in a mood, go about his day as planned, and pop back at the end of her shift and explain and apologise. He felt himself relaxing already, now that the moment was passed and plan was in place. But as he reached into his pocket for his keys, he heard her voice behind him.

"Wait, Brandon, I didn't mean to--"

Oh, go away. Just go away. Please go away. I need you to leave me alone now, and by now I mean right now. Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off. Brandon had made a start to the running repairs on his state of mind and had a plans and materials to shore himself up again, and now here comes Andi with her sledgehammer.

He felt her hand on his shoulder and turned towards her, hoping the unspoken warning in his eyes would carry the message. Leave me the hell alone.

But Brandon hadn't been ready for the expression on Andi's face. She was genuinely concerned for him, distressed at the thought of having upset him, and anxious to apologise and make amends. And not just to keep her job. Brandon felt a stab of guilt. Last night was her fault. This morning was his. If he couldn't handle her teasing and provocations he should have waited until he could. He couldn't go round taking out his frustrations and insecurities on others, least of all his employees. How was she to know what was going on inside his head. His features softened.
“Look, Andi, I-”

And then she kissed him.

And he kissed her back. Her hand, warmed from the thermos, felt wonderful against his weather-chilled cheek. Her fingertips moving over his high cheekbone, the palm of her hand tucked under his chin. The tenderest gesture, the most loving gesture that he had received in who knows how long. He caught his breath as her other arm snaked around his shoulders and her lips moved towards his with an assurance and determination that brooked no resistance. She kissed him passionately, and it was only a split second before he was kissing her back. He deepened the kiss at the same time as she did, sighing gently as he felt the swell of her breasts press against him. His arms found themselves around her waist and across her back, pulling her close against him in an embrace which had very little to do with the cold.

Brandon's head swam. He felt intoxicated. Her lips felt so good against his, her body against his. She tasted divine. He felt butterflies in his stomach. It was... it was like... like he was dreaming. But there he was, there she was. Andi. In his arms. Kissing him passionately. This was real. God was this real? How could a clothed kiss in a car lot be so much more arousing than anything... well, in years. This was... this was... alive.

She broke the kiss and backed away a little. He was glad when she spoke first, as he couldn't, and wouldn't have found the words even if he could.

"I...I don't want to make things any worse for you, Brandon. Or more complicated. I just... I just want to be there for you. I've always wanted... I'm sorry, Brandon."

From overwhelming confidence and bravado to shyness and timidity in the space of a few short moments. She had made her move and spent her whole dollar of courage or recklessness in one go. And was up to him now, he thought. If only he knew what it was he should do. What it was he really wanted. That he could trust his own instincts, especially when one was screaming at him to do what it said he should have done years ago.

He reached for her hands, his right in her left, her left in his right. He took a deep breath.

“Things aren't worse, Andi. Much more complicated, but not worse”. He tried a weak smile. “I thought you might..... but...” he glanced pointedly at the wedding ring he still wore. “I was never free to feel more than flattered, or to flatter myself that.... and now I am free.... I don't yet feel free. You... call me a patronising, arrogant old bastard if you like, but if you've always... and I've only... and now this.... then you deserve better from me than for me to come rebounding into your life when I'm at a low ebb, make you feel sorry for me, only for me to screw everything up. I don't want to take advantage, is what I'm trying to say. I don't think I am.... I don't think I would. But I want to be sure before anything goes any further.... if you even want that."

He squeezed her hands in his and gazed at her. They were both stood in the still-deserted car lot of a coffee shop in the dim early morning light, snow settling unheeded on his business suit and on her apron.

“This isn't a 'it's not you, it's me' brush off. If you've been waiting for me, Andi, then I'm asking if you'll wait a little longer?”

 

[Lucky_XIII]

To have her affections returned; it was bliss. To feel Brandon's arms wrap about her body, drawing her in closer to the instantly emblazoned kiss... All was right with the world: a concept truly foreign to the girl who secretly wallowed in her own misery.

Andi wanted it to last forever. To feel his tongue willfully dancing with her own, to soak in the feeling of their bodies pressing together...to bring their shared desire to a point of no return. But it wasn't fair, or right, for her to encourage such things. Not now, with everything Brandon had on his plate. Doubtless she had already made things more difficult for him. Andi forced herself to let him go, to take a step back.

She tried to summarize her thoughts, truthfully attempting to convey her intent...and her wants. Andi followed it up with an immediate apology. She was fucked up, she knew, and she felt like a vulture. Though Brandon was so much more than something to picked; truly, he was a marvelous man, but Andi's timing left to question if she was taking advantage of his present emotional state. She tried not to linger on what that said of her own character, though her first guess was that it gave a nod towards her own insecurities. She tried to assure herself that, had circumstances between them been different, had he not been married...there was simply no opportunity to show her concern and want for Brandon prior to now without it being a horrible offense in her own mind.

Damn it. She had made things more complicated.

Reassurance was found in the form of Brandon's hands wrapping around her own. Andi gave him a small, grateful smile. Rather than allow her mind to continue to run rampant, she focused all her attention on hearing what he had say.

Her eyes followed his as he glanced at his wedding ring, baneful thing that it was. She was glad that he affirmed her assumption of his honor in regards to his vows to his wife; though she was not religious, and feared no otherworldly punishment for such trespasses against others, even a Godless wretch could form their own concepts of right and wrong. She continued to listen until Brandon was finished speaking.

"Of course, Brandon. I can't expect you to want to move your things in right away," she brandished a wide grin and swung their hands lightly between them. "Whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

She took a step forward to lightly kiss Brandon on the cheek before removing her hands from his. Her arms crossed over themselves, rubbing against her exposed upper arms in an attempt to ease her sudden awareness of the elements. Year-round, the young woman dressed like a twelve year old boy; though her t-shirts clung much more nicely to her curves, certainly. Such was not visible under her apron at present, her current dress was plastered with a an over-sized Horde symbol (though she hadn't played Warcraft in years, it was no reason to throw out a perfectly good shirt). Beyond that, she wore loose legged jeans that covered her knee-high skater shoes all but entirely.

"Are you going to come back in, for your coffee at least?" she asked.

She felt surprisingly at peace with what had transpired between them. Though she had a want to address his mention of his 'low ebb' and misguided notion of her feeling sorry for him or him being the one to take advantage; she couldn't justify dragging it all out. It was cold, things between them were functional...and she had gone so far as to potentially open a door. Whether or not Brandon would walk through it had yet to be seen; Andi couldn't afford to torture herself in the meantime.

 

[MrAdam]

Brandon finished speaking, surprised at the sound of his own voice expressing his feelings and concerns, managing to make some semblance of sense of the thoughts that raced through his head. He had no time to order his thoughts or sugar the pill or think about how best to explain to her. He hoped she would not take offence or feel patronised at the notion of him putting his understanding of what would be or not be in her interest above what she herself wanted, what she judged to be in her interests. He was her boss, but he was only a little older and could claim no great authority to make those kind of judgements on her behalf. For deciding things for her own good.

He worried that she might reject his concern, push this further, and have his answer straight away. Yes or No. I want you, do you want me? But his worries dissipated as she kept hold of his hands and listened to him attentively, thoughtfully. First time for everything, he couldn't help but think. He'd have wagered good money on an entirely different reaction to any previous suggestion that he be any kind of guardian to her own interests. But he was seeing her anew, with her porcupine quills drawn in, rather than arrayed around her, with the paradoxical purposes of keeping him snagged while keeping him a safe distance away. I see you anew, Andi, and I'll think about you anew. And then.... let's see. Brandon was rapidly reassessing what he knew of Andi, and the more he thought, the more he realised that they had talked a lot but said little. She was more of a mystery to him than he would ever have understood a few hours ago, and by extension, was he any less of a mystery to her? The boss man. Let's see if the reality of him could measure up to her expectations. Let's see.

Good, then. He felt better – another interim conclusion, another interim plan.

"Of course, Brandon. I can't expect you to want to move your things in right away,"

He started, but quickly recovered. A joke. That was a joke. Look at that grin on her face. Look at that lovely smile that he'd always have liked to see more of, the smile that lit up the Black Pines Coffee Co. He smiled back, reassured, and grateful for her understanding. He squeezed her hands as she kissed his cheek. The snow, much of it suspended in mid-air, began to fall and the breeze began to blow again,and the cold made itself felt. The bubble around them popped, and time and the elements rushed in to fill the vacuum. And damn, it was cold out here.

"Are you going to come back in, for your coffee at least?"

Brandon grinned. “Well, that depends on whether you'd spat in it or not. If so, I'll probably pass. If not, well, you make the best coffee in town. In the state, probably... although I haven't conducted the extensive field trials required to back that up in a court of law.”

He followed Andi back inside, closing the door behind them rather more gently this time.

“Andi, I should also say... you probably realise, but... I've been out of the game a long time. Not 'out of the game', not 'off the market', relationships aren't games and people aren't commodities, but... I was married for a long time. Before that... well, there wasn't much of a... window... before that. For dating, I mean. I don't even know if people still call it that, or if that's what we'd be doing. I guess what I'm saying is to be patient with me, and to tell me gently when I'm making an ass of myself.”

“I'm sorry to say that I need to go soon, Andi. I've got a meeting with my lawyer, and if you don't mind, a hug before I go would be wonderful”.

 

[Lucky_XIII]

" My coffee is only the best because I spit in it. Venom is a popular flavor nowadays," she teased. She turned on her heel and made a quick jog back to the employee entrance of Black Pines Coffee Co., holding it open long enough for Brandon to join her.

Once inside, she grabbed the previously left behind thermos. "You've probably had enough poison this week, I suppose I could let you off." As she said this, she did not stop her movement towards the front of house, talking to Brandon over her shoulder rather than looking him in the eye as she so easily spoke of his hard times in such simple terms. She hoped it didn't sting; but it was the truth, and Andi often found herself failing to consider what she was saying until it had already been said.

Brandon followed her and paused to watch as she prepared to make a shot of expresso. Andi glanced over in his direction in the moment before he began speaking of his lack of experience in the world of dating, and she smiled softly towards him as he mentioned that she should gently inform him whenever he was making an ass of himself; as if that wasn't the courtesy she paid everyone so well. Maybe not the gentle part, in some cases. "Don't worry, I'm awesome at constructive commentary towards other people." A short pause. "Really, though... I can hardly say I'm a proficient dater. I probably have even less experience than yourself. I mean. I moved here when I was, what? 19? And...I moved here because my fiancee crushed my heart and I wanted to get away from all the people who didn't care about me. Life has taught me to pretty well keep to myself."

Sure, Andi had gone to college for the first couple of years she lived here, but she saw it more as something to do with her time rather than an opportunity to make friends, much less date. She didn't seem too concerned with her studies, in themselves, either: she had stopped enrolling roughly a year ago, with no explanation or seeming stress over the ordeal. On the upside: there wasn't much for people to say about her, she was just the girl who worked at the coffee shop. She liked the feeling of insignificance.

"I only come to work to keep myself sane, really..." she added with a playful grin, her sincere words masked by making it sound like a joke. "And the hours are so horrendous that...I mean, who has time for any more human interaction in a day?" The second part was delivered perfectly straight faced.

Meanwhile, she had continued to make Brandon's coffee. Finished with the concoction, sans-spit, she placed the lid on the mug before walking it over to him. She'd listen as he told her that he'd need to go soon, having all the fun times of hanging out with a lawyer. His asking for a hug was simply adorable and Andi couldn't help but coo softly in response. She set his thermos on the counter before reaching her arms out to him, placing a hand on the back of his head so as to draw him in against her breast. They were roughly the same height, so the effect was to direct his face to rest lightly against her shoulder, towards her throat.

She gave a long, wistful sigh. She wanted to offer him comfort, to tell him that everything would be okay. But life was an unpredictable bitch and Andi hated to lie. So instead, she simple held him in silence for several moments.

When she let go, she reached for his mug and offered it towards him. No doubt he'd take it. "Well, despite whatever bullshit you have to endure, I hope that you have a beautiful day." A short pause. "If...you happen to find yourself free this evening, or whenever, I'd love to make you an 'I'm sorry I called you names in front of the customers' dinner. That was an asshat move on my part." She glanced around briefly before grabbing a napkin and a marker from beside one of the registers. She quickly wrote down an address and a phone number. No doubt the information would be contained in her file, but she didn't want Brandon to have to feel all creepy getting it from such a source. "My place isn't far from here," she spoke as she handed the napkin over to him. Black Pines Coffee Co. was situated right at the mouth of a tourist trap of a canyon, and Andi's address suggested that she lived a half a dozen miles further into said canyon. "You know...just call or text to let me know before you come over. Who knows what the hell I'll be doing if I'm not expecting company." She had been prepared to make a masturbation joke, but she balked at the last second. Andi was honestly a little surprised at herself; what restraint she showed just then.

-----

It wasn't but minutes after Brandon's departure that Sarah arrived on the scene, clocking in at exactly 5 am. She was surprised - and seemingly happy - to find Andi there.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked in her sugary I'm-happy-in-morning voice.

"I'm working mornings for the next two months."

Sarah raised a brow. She had been trained by Andi the year before, so she wasn't entirely surprised. "What did you do?"

"What don't I do, Sarah?"

She laughed.

"Anyway, I'm just a fuck sometimes, and Brandon got sick of my shit. And this is, seriously, about the worst thing he could have done to punish me."

"No doubt he knows it, too,"

Andi sighed. "Indeed." A short pause followed. "I guess he knows my weakness of slackerism, and he's going to make me work for a change. In the morning. How do you even function at this hour?"

It wasn't hard to turn a conversation to another person's own interest, and Andi soon found that she had successfully passed awareness from anything to do with her own life to revolving around Sarah's. And she did it without seeming cold, offering just enough snide remarks about her own character to slip by without further consideration. Andi heard about everything: from Sarah's lack of sleep last night due to her boyfriend's torments to every thought the other woman could think to offer as catch-up gossip for the last year. They were open, but business was slow for the first hour, having orders only through the pick-up window. As such, the two had a considerable amount of time for Andi to absorb new details from this girl she almost knew once. Eventually, the conversation came around to Brandon.

"What do you think of his divorce?" Sarah asked.

Andi shrugged lightly. "What am I supposed to think? He's probably going through hell."

"Yeah, but." Sarah considered her for several long moments. "You can't tell me that you're not...interested. It's so painfully obvious."

Painfully obvious? She hadn't meant to be obvious, by any means. She flushed slightly. "What do you mean, obvious? He was a married man, Sarah, and I--"

"Oh, calm down. I was only teasing. But now that you're all riled up about it..."

"I'm not riled up. Not at all. Just...don't accuse me of things. I'm such a fucking saint, you don't even know."

"Well, its true that I never see you causing a ruckus downtown. You seem like a good kid...but who knows what you do in your free time?" Then, she added, baitingly, "...With Brandon?"

"You are so dumb, Sarah," Andi laughed it off. Even if there was something going on between her and Brandon, it certainly wasn't any of her co-workers' business. "So about what time do things pick up? I'm getting so bored of your mouth...this is exactly why I prefer to work alone."

Sarah gave an expression of mock offense. "Don't lie to me, baby, I know you've missed me. And my mouth." She reached out her arms and forced herself against her co-worker, making theatrics of her kissing noises. Andi gave a shrill cry and attempted the hold the other woman at an arm's length. They both laughed and the fun died off as soon as the bell for the drive-up rang.

"You take orders, I'll make coffee. I don't want to be tripping all over your ass today."

"Fine. No one wants to see your face at the counter anyway," Sarah responded with a grin as she walked towards the drive up window.

Andi had trained that one well. She was lucky to be with her this morning; running on as little sleep as she was, it couldn't have been better. The two women were completely different: Sarah was a fucking rainbow compared to Andi, all sunshine and smiles all the time. She adapted well to the way Andi dealt with people, and reflected the playful aggression marvelously when in her presence. Besides. She was really easy to distract, and Andi loved that quality of her the most.

The day went as well as could be expected. Andi would in no way wish that anyone had to experience the full shift beside her, as it was rather mundane, so we won't be relating such here. Another day, another dollar.

At the end of her shift, Andi returned to the break room to hang up her apron and don her coat. The benefit of working at 5 am was that you got to leave at 1 pm, it seemed; stepping out into the blinding sun that reflected off of the fresh snow, she wondered again how the hell people could do it.

She was going to go home, and she was going to take a nap.

 

[MrAdam]

Eleven years earlier....

The hardest thing about being a mother, Margaret thought, was having to watch your child suffering and not be able to do anything about it except pray. Any mother would gladly take that pain from their child and bear it for them, were that only possible. She thanked the Lord that the doctors had said that he would make a full recovery in time, but it still tore her up to see her son lying in a hospital bed, a large discoloured lump on his forehead, his face pale, dosed up on painkillers and drifting between sleep and fitful wakefulness.

She had seen off Coach Miller and a few of the boys from the football team who had come to try and see him. Good of them, and she was pleased to give them the good news. She was quietly gratified that the boys came too, postponing their victory party. She was relieved they had not all come, and had sent only a delegation. Good boys, for the most part, from good families. She would pass on their best wishes to her son when he was feeling better and either discharged, or up to seeing visitors, and phone Coach Miller the next day to let him know how Brandon was.

Her husband had been pleased when Brandon shifted his focus from the track to the football team. Henry was a great enthusiast for team sports ahead of individual sports, and thought that football would toughen him up. Margaret had been less convinced. It had always seemed awfully rough to her, and it had been one thing watching her peers play when she was a girl, or other people's children play to watching her own son being hunted down by bigger boys almost twice his size. Henry – when he could make games – would be rooting for his son to score a touchdown. She would be hoping for him to get through in one piece.

And tonight he hadn't. Brandon had been on the fringes of the team for the most part, and had spent more minutes on the replacements bench than the field. He was very fast, agile, and light on his feet. He had good instincts, read situations well, and had a few tricks in his locker. But he was short and slight, and try as he might to build himself up, he would always be second best when it came to sheer power. Recently he had had more of a run in the team after one of the first choice running backs got injured and lost his place. And then that night, in the first ten minutes of crunch game, he was thrown off balance by one tackle and then careered straight into another, head first, without a chance to brace for impact.

Both players hit the deck. The boy from the other school slowly got up. Brandon didn't. Medical staff got there quickly enough, but he was out cold for several minutes. He'd been taken to hospital, where they'd x-rayed his skull, pumped him full of painkillers and kept him in for observation. He'd woken up a few times, each time a little more cogent. Now he dozed fitfully.

There was a gentle knock on the door.
“Come in”
The door edged open, and a blonde head tentatively peered around the door.
“Hey Mrs R” she whispered, “How's he doin'?”
Margaret smiled at the girl, who appeared to be using the door as a kind of shield. She hadn't expected her to visit. How interesting. She smiled to herself.
“He's going to be fine, Deborah, thank you. They're going to keep him in for observation just in case. He's sleeping at the moment, but-”
Brandon stirred at the sound of voices and opened his eyes, struggling to focus.
“Nah, I'm awake” he said quickly, “Hi Deb. We won, didn't we? I didn't dream that?”
“Yeah, we won by five” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “Don't care about that. Can I..?” she asked, tilting her head and requesting permission to emerge into the room from behind her door.
“Yeah, sure, come in.”
“Are you sure you're up to visitors, Brandon?” his mother asked, archly, unconvinced.
“Um.. yeah.. of course I am. Come in, sit down.” He tried to sit up too quickly and too eagerly, wincing as he did so. How very interesting.

“Well...” said Margaret, “I'll go and get a coffee and leave you to it. The nurse call button is here in case of problems, and don't hesitate to use it. You're not to talk too much or tire yourself out, understand?”

“Yes mom” Brandon murmured, his pale features colouring in the manner common to teenage boys whose mothers are fussing over them in front of a cute girl. He tried to ignore the knowing smirk on his mother's face as she left the room, and hadn't yet the life experience to take comfort from the fact that his mother obviously approved of Deborah and hadn't chased her off.

Daughter of a family friend, they'd joked about Brandon and Deborah marrying when they were first born, Brandon the older by six months. They'd joked about it again when they were briefly “dating”.... aged 12. And again, briefly, at 14 or so. But Deborah had really blossomed since then – adolescence came to her late and rapidly, and the undeniably cute little girl with the long blonde hair was turning into very attractive young woman, petite and curvy, her hair cut fashionably shorter. Brandon, by contrast, had done his growing early and then stopped. Handsome young devil, his mother thought. And now Deborah had caught him up. They'd make a cute couple, she thought. They're still so very young, but if it turns out that that's God's plan for them, then she'd be very happy. She approved of Deborah, and she was sure Henry would too, when he arrived back from the city.

Brandon tried again to sit up, more slowly this time. Deborah ignored the chairs and perched daintily on the edge of the bed, dropping her cheer kit bag onto the floor. He felt light headed, floaty, happy, if a bit... zonked. And now there was a hot girl sat next to him, who had come to see him. He wasn't entirely sure why – he wouldn't have expected her to come, unless....

“So...” he said, trying to play it cool, “what'ya doing here?”
“Come to see you, stupid” , she slapped his leg playfully, “what else? Was worried about ya, going off in an ambulance like that. It made it hard to concentrate on the cheerleading after that. For me, anyway” she added, making extended eye contact.
“Thought you'd be at the party”
She shook her head, blonde tresses flying everywhere.
“Nah.”
“Won't... Paul... be expecting you?”
“Nah.. me and Paul... well, he's cute'n'all” she said wrinking her nose, “but football is all he cares about. That and cars. He's gonna see if football will get him a scholarship, and if not, he'll go and work with his old man at the garage. And even if he does go to college, it's not going to be Ivy League.... And... I.... I dunno... I think he's like, really into me, more into me than I am into him. I'm not a little girl any more, and cute's important, but I think I want someone... smarter... to have conversations with, you know ? To wanna do stuff, and have ambition. It's all cool, though. He's getting back with Angie, you know, the redhead from Psych class?”
Brandon nodded, still floaty.
“Hey... um... Deb... I really appreciate you coming to see me. Seriously, that means a lot to me. Especially with the party and all.”
“Don't mention it”. She smiled her perfect smile at him. “Great to see that you're okay, and that those bastards haven't spoiled your looks.”
“Looks? I look like the Elephant Man”
“The who?”
“Doesn't matter.. say, um... d'ya fancy going out and catching a movie or something, when I'm out of here. Maybe get a pizza or something?” He affected nonchalance, with only partial success.
She smiled again, tilting her head to one side.
“Sure, Brandon. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot” Mission accomplished. Flash the smile again. “I should be going... I don't wanna make your mom mad.”
“Don't worry about her, she-”
Deborah cut him short by planting a kiss on his cheek.
“You get better, now, you hear me?”
She got to her feet, scooped up her bag, and walked towards the door. Brandon watched her go, wondering dozily whether she always swayed her hips like that. She turned in the doorway, blew him a kiss, smiled, and was gone.

Brandon lay back down. That floaty feeling and his subsequent happy dozing was no longer entirely the fault of the drugs.


Brandon reluctantly took his leave of Andi. He broke the hug with a quick kiss to her neck and gladly agreed to her suggestion of dinner. That sounded like the kind of thing that people did when they liked each other and wanted to get to know each other better, and he was relieved not to have to take her to his.

She hadn't mentioned the fiancé before. He had guessed that there must be a story behind her sudden appearance in town, but had never asked. It wasn't his place to pry. He had half expected that she would have disappeared just as suddenly, but she hadn't, and she'd never volunteered any further information. He'd half suspected some kind of family relationship breakdown – asshole step parent driving her out or something similar. While Brandon tried to take care of his staff, he was nervous about overstepping. Providing safe, secure, and reasonably-paid work in a fairly happy environment was itself of no small assistance.

Brandon had assumed that Andi would not have been short of offers, especially from the hipster crowd who filled his shop and his tills. If she'd had a boyfriend he probably wouldn't have known about it, she he assumed that she had, or that she did have, or would soon have. Three years, though.... a long time to nurse a broken heart. He redoubled his resolution to be careful with her, not to trifle with her feelings. A few other things she'd said hinted – directly or indirectly – at vulnerability under her hard spines. Wouldn't it be something to be the one to make her feel better? To know her properly. He liked that thought. And if he liked that thought, well, that was a good sign.

Half an hour later, he was sat in his lawyer's office. Tom had updated him on the progress of formal negotiations, and Brandon told him about the morning phone call.
“And do you have any other assets?”
“Not assets.... but I've been squirrelling.”
“Squireling?” Tom raised an eyebrow.
“Withdrawing more cash than I need for day to day expenses, and keeping the excess.”
“Why?”
“Play money. Deborah had no idea about money, beyond seeing a positive balance as a reason for spending. Her spending. So I kept a bit back as a slush fund.”
“What for?” asked Tom, “And please don't say coke, hookers, and gambling.”
Brandon shook his head. “Just for stuff that was more expensive than I let on. To avoid a row”
“How much?”
“Well...” he said, “I've been doing it more since... well... you know. I reckon low four figures. Will her famous Forensic Accountants spot that?”
“I think that's a bluff. But even if it's not, I'd be surprised. I thought you were going to say five or six figures, which would give us a problem.”
“My mattress isn't nearly big enough for that.”
“Anything else I should know that you haven't told me about?”
“Well....” said Brandon, weighing up whether to say anything or not, “What would you say if I were to tell you that I think I might have met someone else?”

“As your friend, I'd be really happy for you, and I'd be very relieved at even a hint that you're ready to move on. I know the divorce is constantly rubbing salt into the wounds, but it's been effectively over for a while now. Easy for me to say, I know, but you've got your whole life in front of you still. You still have every chance of happiness, Brandon.”
“Yeah, most eligible divorcee of the year” he grunted. “But... yeah. I'm starting to see a bit of light at the end of that particular tunnel.”

“As your lawyer, though.... I'd suggest that you be discreet. She was unfaithful, you weren't. You weren't, were you?”
Brandon shook his head.
“But a new relationship could be spun against you. It'll drag her into it, and they might to to insinuate that it's been going on for much longer. And even if they can't prove anything, mud can stick.”
“So.... if it were generally known that I had started a new relationship with one of my employees.”
“Then they could insinuate that you were regularly screwing around and taking advantage of your position. No getting away from it – your companies employ a lot of attractive young women. She's already claiming unreasonable behaviour by spending too long way from home. Put those things together, and it's really not good. Out of interest.... and as a friend... who is it? Not the blonde waitress at the Pizza Palace?”
“Jenny. No.”
“Then who?”
“Not telling. I'm being discreet.”
Tom laughed “Fair enough”.

After the meeting, Brandon checked the diary on his phone, entered Andi's number under a different name, and sent her a text to say that he'd be round about 7, but would confirm nearer the time. As he headed off to a meeting with the bank, he found himself smiling.

There was a bit of light in his life, and her name was Andi.

 

[Lucky_XIII]

Mornings that came after noon were always better; Andi awoke from her nap in better graces than previously that day. As she stretched out her arms and looked towards her clock, everything was different.

It was 3:30 pm, the alarm blaring whatever crap was presently playing on the radio. Andi rolled onto her stomach and reached to turn it off. Precisely opposite of the time she woke this morning (being that she merely switched the am/pm of her previous alarm before laying down for a nap), her room was filled with light and her mood was just...brighter. She actually looked forward to dragging herself out of bed, a prospect which usually sucked.

Not to imply that Andi was a mess of depression. Waking up was, and should be, the worst part of anyone's day. She amused herself briefly with the thought of Sarah having horrible night terrors, and that was why she popped out of bed just happy to be alive every day. Or maybe she was just on some really good prescription meds.

The idle musings dissolved as the brunette swung her legs over the side of her bed, her bare feet making contact with the warmth of her floor. She glanced down.

It looked like hardwood. Maybe it even was? She couldn't remember what details her father had prattled off, to be entirely honest. All she knew was that it was expensive; some luxury her parents thought she should have. Heated flooring, throughout the entire house. She still repeated that to herself in her father's voice.

She didn't like it. Floors were supposed to be cold. I should turn off all the settings, Andi told herself for the millionth time. But then, when would she be reminded of her father? All she had to hold on to his memory were these things. This house, which he bought and completely reconstructed when Andi declared that she was moving away. He, and Andi's mother, had so calmly picked out this small town for her to run away to; they practically pitched it to her like a couple of sales representatives.

This place will be perfect for you - just get away for awhile.

Yes...get away for awhile. When your life crumbles before you, the ones who should love you the most could only expect that a retreat would fix all of your problems. Send you off to live in the mountains, alone. Hope that more of that seclusion you suffered as a child can only make things better.

Oh we'll just buy her a beautiful lofted cabin in the woods between some cliffs; she'll love it. No doubt she'll get over...whatever. Andi thought to herself in her mother's blissfully dumb voice.

Ugh. Andi forced herself to leave the thought at that.

"Poor little rich girl," she mocked herself as she climbed to her feet. She felt bad about feeling bad; she was extremely lucky, all things considered, and what kind of asshole felt sorry for themselves when they lived like this? Things were awesome. Not having to ever worry about paying or rent or being able to eat was awesome. The fact that the surrounding shinies did nothing to please her only meant that Andi was an ingrate. She had been told so much.

She distracted herself with her phone, again looking at the message Brandon had sent her earlier in the day. Only three and a half hours to decide how she really felt about letting him see her home.

Andi didn't invite people here because...well. She was ashamed of the extravagance, to be entirely honest. While she hadn't stuffed the place with eloquent statues or pricey works of art, she couldn't justify ripping out the granite counter tops or removing the range-equipped island with a hood that summoned out of the console with the push of a button. The general design of the place hadn't been in her hands, and her parents seemed to think that if their darling princess had the best of everything it would somehow prove that they loved her. She stepped out from the heavy French doors that separated the master bedroom from the balcony that overlooked the spacious living room. It was complete bullshit, having doors up here. The room she had just emerged from had glass walls, held together by intermittent solid wood columns. The only part of her chambers that was not visible from the lower floor was her private washroom.

Remaining in a tank-top and a pair of panties, Andi made her way down the stairs at a relaxed pace. Her eyes settled on the overly ornate carvings of her banister. What the fuck had her mother been thinking when she picked out that particular detail? If Andi loves anything, it's showboating. Yes, this will be perfect. Her blue eyes rose to look at the marvelous mantlepiece of her fireplace. Truly, it looked as if her residence came straight out of a magazine. Or an upscale skiing lodge brochure, minus the randomly stuffed dead animals. Andi gave a sigh.

She didn't help things, exactly. It was hard not to give in to the temptation to buy a ridiculous things to distract her attention; the paychecks she didn't need or want easily covered her entertainment set-up and furnishings... Probably even most of the things that were tucked away into her 'office' (which was little more than an adult's arcade room with random trinkets of fandom all over the place).

Fetching herself a glass of orange juice, she leered at her possessions from a new vantage point.

How would Brandon look at her, after seeing this? While she had faith the he was a good man, he wouldn't be the first corrupted to treat her better than he might if he was otherwise unaware.

Maybe you should just meet at a restaurant...

But Andi was tired of hiding. What she should do, really, is sell this damned place and move into something a little more humble. Then she could hide forever without even trying to. No one needed to know about her family's oil, or the trust fund that dispersed undeserved money to her on a regular basis. The knowledge had already tainted a batch of decent people, real friends, to see her as some benefit to be gained.

You...need to switch to wine, she told herself as she tipped back her glass and finished her orange juice.

-----

Andi had switched to wine, but only for a glass. The last thing she needed to do was be trashed when Brandon arrived; no doubt that'd make for a sound impression. Instead, she focused her attention on cleaning up and preparing their dinner. She had, at some point, showered and redressed herself: though she did not go out of her way on that note. Andi wore the usual t-shirt and jeans, opting to go barefoot.

She waited to hear from Brandon again and he did not leave her disappointed. She'd respond to his text that said he was on his way there with a "Okay, great. I'll see you soon."

...With Brandon? Stupid Sarah. Stupid fucking Sarah.

Andi considered for several moments as she wandering about the house with a candle lighter. It wasn't her intention to choke Brandon with romance, she simply had mounted sconces and holders that were lit, out of habit, when company was coming over. A residual from her mother, no doubt. The fire was already started, being fueled by logs that cackled lightly as the flames devoured their essence.

Telling him to park in the garage would probably be construed as an insult, she thought. It wasn't that she was concerned for herself - she could be known as 'the coffee shop girl that fucks her boss'. The people here were at enough of a distance that their opinion truly didn't matter; they had no effect in her life. She'd prefer that she not be a topic upon their lips, of course, but there were far worse things than being branded as a slut by people you didn't know. But if certain assumptions were made of Brandon...his divorce wasn't even final yet.

She gave a heavy sigh and looked at her phone. Then again, who knew that this was her house? Someone would have to be conducting an investigation to go so far as to see Brandon's car here, look up the documentation to prove that Andi owned the property, and pretend to know why the two were spending time together. And...hiding such would just make it look guilty, wouldn't it?

Andi frowned and left her phone on its previously discarded position on the counter. Fuck it. If he brought up such concerns, they could be there, otherwise, they didn't need to exist.

Well. All there was to do then, was wait. Andi poured herself a glass of red wine, which she would consider her first of the evening, since her last one had been consumed more than three hours earlier.

 

[MrAdam]

Six years earlier.

The sun was only just now starting to set behind the mountains at the end of a long, hot, summer's day. A pleasant breeze had taken the edge off the heat, and the temperature was now starting to drop. A large gathering had contracted to a small gathering – only family and close friends remained, and the atmosphere was one of quiet, sated contentment. The party had been a great success, and now only their nearest and dearest remained, the social pressure was off. Business associates and friends of the family had come and gone earlier in the afternoon and evening, and most of those with babysitters had gone to relieve them. The party that had been thrown in honour of Henry's successful surgery and of his birthday the previous month, which he had been too sick to celebrate properly.

Deborah, looking lovely in a floaty sundress, was sat on the grass with her boyfriend's teenage sister, Claire, and a small gaggle of her friends. Deborah always made time for both of his siblings, but for Claire especially who looked up to her. To her and her friends, Deborah was impossibly cool and mature and beautiful and wise and everything they wanted to be too. What she was doing with her dorky brother was another question, but Claire loved having her around and relished her attention and interest in her.

“Brandon” called Henry to his son, who was slumped contentedly on his back, looking up at the sky and listening to the girls' inane chatter about pop starts he'd never heard of and gossip about people he didn't know. “Come here for a moment, son”

Brandon picked himself up off the grass and went to sit down in the patio chair next to his father.
“Do I tell you that I'm proud of you, son?”
“Sure dad, all the time”
“No..... I mean, really, really proud. You've grown into a fine young man. And this last year... well, I cannot tell you what it means to your mother and I. I know you've made sacrifices for this family, son, but the education you've had and the use you've made of it in the last year, well, it'll be worth more to you than years of frat parties and road trips and goofing off at overpriced colleges with know-nothing so-called Professors. And that coffee shop of yours.... what can I say, son? You were right and I was wrong.”
“Wow... you were.... wrong... about something? No way!” Brandon grinned.
“But there's something important I want to say to you now, son. About Deborah.”
“Uh-huh” he said, non-committal.
“She's a great girl. A really great girl. One in a million. You're lucky to have her.”
“I know that, dad. I'm glad you and mom like her. That means a lot to me.”
“You're a man now, son, so it's time to face some hard truths. The surgery may have been successful, but you know I won't be able to go back to work. I don't know how much time I have left on this earth, but I don't think it's long.”
“C'mon, dad, you're a fighter”
Henry shook his head. “No sense ignoring hard truths, Brandon. Now listen, I want to see you settled and happy before I go. You know how happy it would make your mother if you were to make an honest woman of that lovely girl.”
“Dad......”
“How long has it been now?”
“Five years next month.”
“Long enough to decide, surely?”
“I don't know, dad. We were kids for a lot of that time.”
“Which makes it all the more remarkable, no? Look, Brandon, I hope you're serious about her, because if you're not, and if you're just stringing her along, then you're not the man I hoped.”
“I love her, dad.”
“Well, then? Why not get married?”
“I don't know.... I just don't feel old enough. Don't feel ready. And she might not even-”
“Don't give me that. She quit college to be with you....”
“I didn't ask her to”
“No, of course you didn't, You didn't because you wouldn't because you had absolutely no right to. But she did anyway. She dotes on you, hangs on your every word. She's sacrificed her own ambitions to help you with yours. These days, you don't get many women who would do that, who are happy to be a home-maker. Look, Brandon, here's the reality. Do you still think that there's a moment when you become a man? When God, or a man from the government, gives you the special book of adult wisdom? Comes to take away all those doubts you have? Shows you the clear path set out for you? It doesn't happen. Sure, you get older and wiser, but no-one ever appears with the answers, or takes that doubt away. You're not the finished article yet, son, not quite, but there's nothing that you're missing that will help you.”
“Did you feel doubt... about mom?”
“Not about how I felt about her, but about timing, sure I did. But what I don't understand about you is how you can be so determined and pig headed about the coffee shop and any doubts you had about that, but you can't do the same about the right course of action with her.”
“I'll level with you. I'm scared. I like how things are, I don't want them to change.”
“But they can't stay as they are. If she's waiting for you to ask – and I think she is – the longer she waits, the more she'll wonder about you, and that's dangerous. It can poison everything. If you want things like they are, marry the girl. That's my honest advice to you, man to man. It'll be like things are at the moment, only you'll have respect and status in the eyes of the community, and your own place together so you won't need to do so much sneaking around. Just promise me you'll think about it seriously – you'd make her happy, your mom happy, and a very sick man very happy.”
“I'll give serious thought to what you say, sir” said Brandon, trying to dismiss the formless misgivings hammering inside his head as normal nerves.



Brandon tried to order his thoughts during his lunchtime run on the treadmill at the small, simple gym he part-owned. Things he was sure of:
One. He and Deborah were finished, and had been for some time. Since before he'd known it.
Two. He would do right by his children. Always, and ahead of all else.
Three. Andi liked him, a lot. That made him happy and feel warm inside.
Four. He liked her too, but his feelings for her were confused, and had been distorted by circumstances – his marriage, and the fact that she worked for him.
Five. Trying to reconstruct how things might have gone between them if it weren't for one or both distorting factors was pretty pointless, even if it were possible.
Six: She had been badly hurt before, and he needed to be careful.
Seven: Things should move slowly.
Eight: The monster from the id wanted her. Very much indeed.
Nine: He'd completely forgotten how nice a kiss and a cuddle and a hug could be.
Ten: He was going on a date tonight, and needed to bring some wine. Flowers probably too much, but wine would be good.

Seven hours later and slightly early, Brandon stood outside the door of the house that Andi had given him the address for. He checked and re-checked, even as far as walking back to check the street name. This wasn't the kind of place he was expecting.

He rang on the doorbell and waited, bottle of wine in hand. He'd intended to play it cool when he saw her again. Instead, he found himself instinctively hugging her and kissing her on the cheek.
“Hey, great place you have here. Guess that tips jar fills up faster than I thought?”

 

[Lucky_XIII]

It only took moments from the time Brandon rang the doorbell until the entrance swung open, revealing Andi with a bright smile on her lips.

"Hey, Brandon. Glad you could make it."

She happily accepted his hug, returning it with gentle wrapping of her arms. She held him close but not tightly. After he kissed her cheek, the two parted and Brandon complimented her place; his comment about the tip jar in relation made Andi laugh more genuinely than she had in a long time.

She took a step back and to the side, formally extending her arm out in an invitational gesture. "Please, come in." It didn't take the man long to comply; as he closed the door behind him, Andi glanced at the bottle of wine in his hand. She'd wait for him to offer it to her, of course, before taking such and thanking him for it.

"Would you like a glass?" she asked in the moment before she turned on her heel to lead him deeper into the house. There were brass coat hooks installed near the door, should he decide to remove his coat before following her. Whatever the case, Andi would take a leisurely pace towards the kitchen. It seemed she already had her own glass of wine, or at least half of a proper pour, setting out on the counter. She unceremoniously dumped it in the sink before reaching above to draw out two new glasses (type depending on the wine, of course) from a hanging mount beneath the cupboards.

She peeled the foil from the neck of the bottle as she moved to grab a cork-remover from a drawer. As she busied herself with the task, she tried to keep the pleasantries rolling. "How was the rest of your day?"

 

[MrAdam]

Brandon followed her inside. He felt a little nervous, but it was happy-nervous rather than the awkward-nervous he feared – he felt as if he had to re-learn how to act around her, and she him, now that things had changed between them. And what was one thing that was certain – for good or ill, things had changed. He knew not to try too hard, which would be worse than not trying enough. But he'd always projected a particular version of himself to Andi, and – it must be said – she to him. And, for that matter, everyone to everyone else. But it wasn't as if the different versions of himself didn't overlap – of course they did. So perhaps if he just... I don't know ....relaxed?

He was relieved to see that Andi hadn't gone to excessive trouble. While the place looked smart and had candles lit, he got the impression that candles were just something that some women just like having around the place rather than a particular touch for him. More importantly, she was dressed in her usual jeans and t-shirt... well, at the less scruffy end of usual, anyway. While he'd love to see her in a little black dress, he'd had been a little worried if she'd been wearing one that evening. That would have been too much – or too little – too soon. No doubt she sensed that too – assuming that she even owned a dress to wear, of course.

For his own part, he wore the dark grey same suit he'd worn earlier that day, but with his tie removed and the two top buttons of his crisp white cotton shirt unbuttoned. He could have gone home to change, but staying as he was and losing the tie was an easy option. One of many reasons why it's great to be a man.

Brandon slipped out of his overcoat and hung it carefully on the coathook, switching his phone to silent and placing it in his overcoat pocket. He followed Andi through to the kitchen, looking around and admiring her house. The joke about the tip jar hadn't elicited an explanation, though he hadn't asked for one and did not pursue it. Perhaps she was independently wealthy, or had inherited the property, or was house minding, or something like that. Andi was something of a mystery, and he'd find out more in good time. It was rude not to be complimentary on seeing a friend's home for the first time, but it was gauche to go prying.

He watched her opening the bottle of wine.
“It's hard to assess today, in all honesty” he said, in response to her question. “It's a bit like asking Usain Bolt how his day was apart from winning the 100m gold – sometimes one event just overshadows everything else. And you were there for that”. He smiled at her, the light sparkling in his eyes as he gazed at her for a few moments before looking away.
“Um.... Well, my meeting with my lawyer was... constructive. The bank seem reasonably reassured that things are in hand, but want a quick resolution to end the uncertainty – someone owes them money, and they want to make sure that whoever ends owning that debt also ends up with the means to service it. No-one likes uncertainty and her lawyers have been threatening to......damn it!” he stopped, exasperated.

“You know what else I did today?” he said ruefully, starting again. “Tried to remember everything I've ever been told about dating. And from what I remember, rule one was always never, ever to mention your ex or anything whatever about former partners. And I told myself that that's what I'd do, but to be frank, the divorce kind of dominates everything, or at least looms over everything. The albatross around my neck is the elephant in the room, and both will crap everywhere... metaphorically... if given the chance. I don't really want to talk about It, and I don't want to talk about Her, but you've a right to know what the score is if you're thinking about getting involved with me. I'm... you know... I'm still technically married. Now, I don't know what you've heard – on the one hand, gossip is the fastest speed there is, but on the other I'm not arrogant enough to think that my domestic troubles are the talk of the town. What am I saying? I don't know, really. I guess that you can ask what you want, and don't have to tiptoe around it, but also that you kick my ass if I go on about it when we should be talking about other things, and in particular about you and about us.”

He took the offered glass of wine. “What shall we drink to? The future?”

 

[Lucky_XIII]

Andi's eyes reflected a similar light to Brandon's; his mention of the significance of their previous event in the day was delightfully sweet.

He glanced away and began to speak of lawyers, banks...her. Andi frowned, but not for her own sake. Brandon was being tortured, and he was tormenting himself on top of it all. His companion continued to listen as he spoke of the one rule of dating conversation, which he couldn't help but break because of his present circumstances. She removed the cork from the bottle, and much like a bartender listening to a patron pouring their heart out, she dispensed their drinks with an even hand. She held Brandon's glass as he finished speaking of how she should confine him to whatever she felt they should discuss.

He accepted the drink. “What shall we drink to? The future?”

"That sounds lovely." She lifted her glass before ushering in the toast. "To a future...in which Brandon lives for himself, if even for only a little while." She'd hope that he'd accept such and clink her glass; in either case she'd take a drink afterwards. "Seriously, Brandon. I'm astonished at your ability to worry about what I might think about what you could have to say about anything that has, or is, paining you. I mean, yes...the one rule of dating conversation normally applies, but... I'd like to think that we're more adult than needing such guidelines. I suppose, maybe if you were talking about some hot chick that dumped you back in the day and she came into town and you were ranting about the good old days, I might get jealous. But...Deborah? Far be it for me to say anything, really, but... If it's over? I can only imagine you'll move on. I don't want you to think I'm trying to wrangle you directly into another relationship where you're being constantly judged and measured." She pondered a moment. "Maybe it'd even be easier for you to talk to me about what's going on in your life if you didn't consider me a girlfriend? I'm more than content to just be your friend, Brandon." She set her wine glass on the counter and drew lightly over the granite surface with her index finger. "...But so you know..." she glanced up from the tracing to look at him directly. "It is 'a rose by any other name' deal, really. Obviously, I'm very attracted to you; and to have a 'relationship' with you would be amazing, but it's okay if you're not ready for that. I'd rather know the not-walking-on-eggshells version, if I can."

She smiled. "Whatever it is between us... I'd still let you into my bed without a single promise passing your lips."

 

[MrAdam]

In the film version of his life, one script-writer would have had Brandon dropping his glass of wine, to signify his surprise. The camera would linger on her suggestive smile, his face, and then the glass falling in slow motion onto the hardwood floor and shattering, in a slowed down moment of faux-auteur camera work which would hopefully mask the hack device of a dropped glass signifying the extent of surprise. In another draft of that script, 'Brandon' would have said nothing, just smiled a suave inscrutable smile, stepped towards 'Andi', taken hold of the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head in a single movement.

In reality, what he did was stare stupidly, his mouth a little open, and said
“Um....” before shutting his mouth, opening it, and trying it again.

Brandon had thought she was talking herself out of a relationship with him, and that he'd blundered badly by mentioning his wife and the divorce, and that it was rule 1 for a damn good reason. He felt a sinking feeling, stemming partly from being manoeuvred back towards 'friends'.... well, perhaps not 'back', but... and partly because perhaps the reality was that he wasn't ready for a relationship. But then the conversation took a rather more startling turn.

“Look, Andi, I'm flattered.... no, no, that's wrong. I am, but that sounds like the start of a brush off. Truth is, I....” he paused, his gaze meeting hers for a moment before wandering downwards, sweeping down over her body, then back up to her eyes again. “Truth is I'd like that very, very much. The truth is... there's a part of my brain that has wanted that for a very long time, but it's a part of my brain that it's generally best for me not to listen to, because it's the bit that leads to divorce, sexual harassment charges, and general disgrace and ruin. It's a bit of my brain that has some absolutely breathtaking ideas, but many have absolutely terrible consequences that it never considers.”

“I like the offer of being friends – going beyond employer and employee who look forward to seeing each other and just banter a bit. But this means me being a friend to you, not just you being a friend to me. If you're going to put up with my bullshit, you have to be willing to let me put up with yours too. Friend doesn't mean unpaid therapist, Andi, which means I get to get to know you too, Little Miss Evasive.”

“And the offer of sharing your bed, now there's no compelling cause or just impediment as to why we shouldn't? Well, as I said to you earlier, I'd be worried about taking advantage, even if I didn't mean to. But if you've thought it through... well, perhaps it's not my place to worry about that on your behalf. It's up to you to decide if you want to risk being disappointed or getting hurt.... I can do I can to stop that happening, but disappointing or hurting you to avoid disappointing or hurting you, well, that' just doesn't make sense. And a relationship.... that's basically being friends, bed-sharing, and a mysterious third factor. I think that third factor might already be there – I think we've always sparked off each other - and I'd be happy to try the first and second things to find out – either would be worthwhile enough in itself.”

“Does any of that make sense? And if it does, do you think it warrants another kiss?”

 

[Lucky_XIII]

The moment that existed between them was priceless. Andi’s azure eyes traced Brandon’s expression as he reacted with minor shock, being somewhat ambushed with her most recent statement. His lips parted slightly and he offered her an ”Umm...” before attempting to recompose for a second attempt. Meanwhile, the young woman continued to smile invitingly as she purposefully picked out details of his face to recall when this would be all but a memory. The short-lived lack of certainty in how to respond to her...it would be just that, and only until he became accustomed to the boldness that usually accompanied her words. Her straight-forward honesty only brought about such reactions from those that weren’t expecting it.

To be certain, he had been exposed to such before; but nothing so intimate, by far. Andi was glad that the particular suggestion at hand caught him off guard, caused him to fluster as he had.

She listened intently, watching as his eyes traveled the length of her body and back to meet her own. A pause persisted between them. His companion might have kissed him then, but his words had yet to reveal how he felt about the offer beyond being flattered, so she held off. As he continued to speak, Andi trusted the truths that he shared with her, in turn being flattered that he had admitted to wanting her prior to her shamelessly throwing herself at him. And he wasn’t wrong in such, even if he had been married at the time, because the other part of his brain had always guided him to act on strict system of honor and fear.

It was odd that she could so revere that part of him, while at the same time wishing that she could surpass its reason and allow him to indulge in his breathtaking ideas with her without the inhibition of concepts such as consequences/general disgrace and ruin.

Andi regarded him kindly as he continued to speak. He’d notice an obvious shift of her weight from one hip to the other as he made mention of the terms of friendship. That’d he’d expect her to share more of who she was. It wasn’t that she was entirely unwilling; the prospect just made her uncomfortable. She hardly liked herself, and... It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume that her self-loathing didn’t in some way entitle others to feel the same way. She could sugar-coat it, almost make it a comedy routine; project her negativity as if she’d evolved behind letting such things pain her.

She managed a small smile at his calling her Little Miss Evasive; it was certainly fair.

” And the offer of sharing your bed, now there's no compelling cause or just impediment as to why we shouldn't?” Andi’s levity surpassed her concerns about a future expectation to open up to Brandon; she could be distracted just as easily as Sarah, certainly, when it served her want of avoidance. As she listened to the rest of what he had to say, her smile brightened in response to him trying to make sense of his thoughts. It was obvious that things could never be uncomplicated: one part of him made sure of that. He worried of being the one to take advantage, being the one to cause harm. But he relented; he didn’t know what Andi wanted or needed and couldn’t be the judge of what was best for her.

He was marvelously reasonable, after all. And, more importantly, that reason enabled the man to believe they could test the factors of a relationship without the preemptive label that seemed to cause him so much stress.

“It makes perfect sense,” she agreed as she took steps to close in the gap between them. Her hands graced over the material covering his chest, moving towards his shoulders as she lightly pressed her body against his. He was just slightly taller than her for the advantage of his shoes; she looked upwards the slight distance to gaze into his eyes as she continued her reply. “I think it warrants more than a kiss, to be entirely honest. But we’ll start with that.”

Her lips brushed against his teasingly at first, her nose dragging lightly across his as she drew herself back from him. “Brandon,” she spoke, just barely above a whisper. “I think you should know...” a hand trailed up the back of his head, her fingernails gently rubbing against his scalp. “Neither of us is taking advantage here. We’re just friends enjoying each other’s company.”

She sought his mouth again with her own. This time, her lips did not tease; in fact, they parted almost instantly. Her eagerness in devouring him was without restraint, and she soon found herself gently guiding Brandon to walk backwards towards the living room. Meanwhile, one hand remained on his shoulder, being the primary offender of her light pushing, while the other remained tangled within his short hair, ever pulling him into her kiss as they moved. It would have been easier, and far less baffling, she knew, if she had been willing to let go long enough to ask Brandon to take a seat on the couch. The employed method got them there, passionately albeit awkwardly, and upon arrival Brandon simply found the back of his legs struck by the placement of the aforementioned furniture. The hand on his shoulder repositioned to press downwards rather than back. The non-verbal communication was enough to get the point across – he eased into a sitting position and Andi straddled his lap, still intent to not break their embrace.

Both hands, now, ran tenderly through his hair. No longer needing to pull him forward into their kiss, her fingertips traced just behind his ears, moving up and back.

 

[MrAdam]

Brandon smiled into her kiss, and had to stop himself from laughing in playful joy at the awkward manoeuvring as he took a small step back each time, the hand on his shoulder pushing him on. His left heel banged against something solid, then his right. Hopefully a couch or a chair, rather than the coffee table. The insistent hand pushed him downwards, and as he crouched to sit, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her forward with his backwards-downwards movement, not letting her get away from him. Andi had him right where she wanted him, all without breaking their kiss.

There was something wonderfully erotic, wanton, uninhibited about the way she straddled his lap, her knees apart, planted on the couch outside of his thighs, pressing against them. This was the girl he'd been worrying about taking advantage of... the girl straddling his lap, and threatening to eat his face off. She was no timorous, shy, innocent little shop-girl... and he was no moustache-twirling Victorian villain, exploiting his staff for his own wicked ways. Andi was passionate, assertive, and confident, and Brandon felt no hint of guilt about being the beneficiary of what he suspected may have been a scene long in her imagining. Enjoying each other’s company? Oh fuck, did that sound good.

As she played with his hair, Brandon placed his hands on the outside of her thighs, spreading his hands wide. Starting just above her knees, he swept his hands up the outside of her legs in broad, confident, and firm caresses. Only his fingertips strayed onto her bottom as his hands continued to roam up her flanks, over the curves of hip and waist, up onto her torso, feeling her ribs through her t-shirt. Teasingly, he only allowed his fingers the briefest of butterfly caresses on the very outer curve of her breasts before has hands made the return journey, back down her sides, pressing firmly into her waist and roaming back down over her hip. He could feel her warmth through the cotton t-shirt, and the firmness of his caress, pressing quite hard against her denim jeans, enabled him to feel as much as possible of her legs through the thick denim. His hands made the return journey once more, as he continued to kiss her passionately. Then, hands still on her sides, he concentrated his touch on the curve of hip and waist, each time gently sliding the hem of her t-shirt a little further up her flank.

When he was confident of her positive reaction – and of the temperature of his hands – they would slide up over her thighs, over her hips, and then under – rather than over – her t-shirt, coming to a rest on her sides, just above her waist. He paused for a moment, to savour the feel of her bare skin. He wanted her. He wanted every inch of her. And wanted to savour it all.

 

[Lucky_XIII]

As Brandon’s hands rubbed the length of her thighs, Andi relished the firm and confident caress while remaining attached to kissing him intensely. Her hands would continue to move, one remaining within his hair, lightly gripping at the short strands, while the other moved to cradle the side of his face. Her thumb rubbed along the rise of his cheekbone as her fingers splayed to tenderly cup his jaw. She felt his hands trail over her hips, up the bend of her waist. Already, she found herself shifting her lap over his, suddenly wishing that she could’ve convinced herself to wear that dress. She owned a few, sure, and there was a particular one she had always imagined wearing for him, but... It was obvious, and she hadn’t wanted Brandon to suspect that she was going to jump him like this. She hadn’t planned to, even if it was an intention she knew would come to fruition sooner rather than later; the opportunity had simply arose and she simply had taken it.

You’re shameless, she told herself. The thought was only echoed when Brandon’s fingers graced against the outer curve of her breast and she rocked her hips and moaned lightly into his mouth. He withdrew his hands and continued back down along her sides. She had to appreciate his restraint; it would enable them to make-out like a couple of teenagers on the couch without rush, give her ample time to take pleasure in the feel of another person. She didn’t need someone to take her heart; rather she was quite hesitant to all prospects of being ‘serious’...but that didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the feeling of being loved on a purely physical level. Who wouldn’t?

After several similar passes of Brandon’s hands, there came a point that they slipped under the material of her shirt, coming to a stop above her waist. Andi gave an approving purr before dropping her hands to his shoulders, withdrawing from their kiss briefly so as to pull back and consider the man whose company she so looked forward to enjoying. Her chest heaved lightly with shallow breaths as her eyes sought to gaze in to his.

“We have all night,” she whispered before gently biting her lower lip. Her teeth drug over the pink flesh as it slowly slid free of the hold. She leaned forward to kiss his throat, trailing up the side of his neck and towards his ear. The lobe of his left was playfully taken between her teeth and tugged before she licked and suckled it teasingly. Meanwhile, her hands moved to explore his chest through the material of his shirt, soon finding fit to start removing his buttons from their confines. She did so slowly, releasing only the first (which was actually the third down) before returning her mouth to his.

She’d continue to unveil his chest thusly, though she was not going so far as to remove the garment entirely at present. Once the panels of his shirt were separated, she’d push the material to the sides as she allowed her hands to explore the feel of Brandon’s naked chest. Andi remained focused on the blissful venture for several minutes, soaking the feel of his hands as they similarly investigated her body.

She was getting too excited; her willingness was blatant and she knew if such things were left to her it wouldn’t be long before the two were stripped entirely, with her mounted over his lap and riding his manhood without any other awareness in the world except how he felt inside of her.

The young woman trembled lightly and pulled away from the kiss, immediately shifting her position so as to sit on the side of Brandon, one leg continuing to reach over his lap as she faced him. She thought to ask if she was going too fast, but the words failed to materialize. Instead, she took a firm hold of his open shirt under the lapels so as to draw him to back into her kiss. She further repositioned as she pulled him over top of her, her legs settling on either side of his hips.

 

[MrAdam]

“We have all night” she whispered.

Brandon did not answer in words, but his eyes sparkled with mischief and a slow smile spread across his handsome, expressive features. All night. When had he last felt like this? Not just horny, but... happy... glad to be alive. With something to look forward to. With someone to look forward with... and to. He watched her nibble on her lip, and his smile became broader still. You little minx... he thought.... my little minx. God, but it was wonderful to be seduced... to feel again that he was worth the effort.

As Andi went for his neck, Brandon welcomingly tipped his head right back with an anticipatory murmur of pleasure, his eyes shut in order to better feel every sensation. It was almost a gesture of welcome surrender... this is one of my weaknesses that I'm not even going to try to hide from you... do your worst. I dare you. Please.

As her hands moved towards his chest, his own moved up under her t-shirt, from her waist, up her sides and round onto her back. As Andi unbuttoned his shirt, he shrugged his way out of his suit jacket, his hands leaving her skin for not a moment longer than was required. They returned under her t-shirt again, roaming up and down her back, sometimes caressing with his palms and fingers, sometimes gently scratching with his fingertips. A kind of upright back massage. The strap of her bra was the only occasional barrier between his warm, gentle touch and her smooth, bare skin. Her explorations of his chest matched his of her back, and his breath was quick and shallow as her hands wandered over his torso.

Andi manoeuvred herself onto the couch, first sitting next to him for a moment before reclining backwards and pulling him after her by his lapels. He grinned at her as she pulled him down to renew the kiss, coming to rest on top of her, lying between her legs. He returned her passionate kiss for a few moments, before starting his own detailed scientific investigation to find out whether she shared his weakness for neck kissing and ear nibbling. He broke the kiss before gently drawing a trail down her neck with kisses, licks, nuzzles, and the occasional nip. Once his kisses reached the hem of the neck of her t-shirt, he tried to pull it as low as it would go, kissing her collarbone and the very top of her chest. He followed it all the way round like this, then back up the side of her neck, and onto her ear, where he took a gentle nibble.

“Take your t-shirt off, Andi. Now” he whispered, insistently, into her ear, his grin audible in his voice. “It's a nice t-shirt and all, but right now, it's.... in ...the... way.”

 

[Lucky_XIII]

At the feel of his lips traveling down her throat, Andi tipped her head back slightly, a soft moan escaping from her. She closed her eyes as if it would improve her ability to soak in the sensation of his kisses and licks; regardless if such was the case, with or without some benefit of heightened senses, Andi was certain that this was by far the best of the affections she had received throughout her life. She could feel Brandon's desire for her...the manner in which he touched her, his hand ever diligent and teasing...the sincerity of his lips in their explorations of her neck, the playful nips that accompanied his kisses.

When he reached the hem of her shirt, she felt a tug of the fabric as he pulled it lower, exposing her collar bone. She practically purred in response to feeling his lips press against her skin and she arched her back in response to him continuing downwards, to the to top of what he could expose of her breasts without actually removing her shirt.

Brandon continued to shower her with affection, trailing his mouth back up her throat and eventually to the lobe of her ear. His nibbling caused her to shirk away slightly, though the giggle that accompanied the gesture made it seem unlikely that she disliked it. It wasn't long before she settled back into her former position - she had not drawn herself very far, to be begin with - and was greeted with the feel of the man's words being whispered into her ear.

“Take your t-shirt off, Andi. Now.” Andi felt her smile become more prominent; the incident of giggling had already given her at least a smirk. “It's a nice t-shirt and all, but right now, it's.... in ...the... way.”

Instinctually, Andi sought to find some sort of comment to make. The best she could come up with, though, was to deny the niceness of her shirt. Or to respond to his gentle command with a mock, "Yes, sir," as she would at the coffee shop. But despite habits being hard to break, in this instance Andi thought better to drop the act she had performed so often it was second nature.

She turned her face towards him, staring into his eyes for several moments before shifting her hands to the bottom hem of her shirt. In a combined motion, hands lifted upwards over her torso as she inclined herself just enough to pull the material out from under her shoulder blades. There was not a moment of hesitation as the cloth pulled over her head, the article being quickly and carelessly discarded to somewhere on the floor in the moment it was free of her body. Laying back, Andi's hair remained pulled upwards from the removal of her shirt.

The woman placed her hands on top of Brandon's, sliding his palms smoothly up her body until his fingers nudged against the curved underwire of her bra. "You'll have to remove this one yourself, gorgeous," she spoke playfully.

Andi desperately wanted to pull him in for another kiss, but she wanted even more to give Brandon the opportunity to study her nearly exposed C-cup breasts and the material she had confined them in. Whereas she had made no extra effort so far as her dress was concerned, the same could not be said of her undergarments.

The bra, at it's core, was made of a white material that seemed to be silk, stitched in black over some thin supportive material. The cups came just high enough to barely cover her nipples, and while there was not a 'push-up' wedge within the garment, it was designed to tightly fit and lift her soft globes so that they seemed to be spilling out of their confines. Every time Andi saw the particular effect, she couldn't help but be reminded of the portrayal of an olde time bar wench.

Along the outer curve of her breasts was additional stitching; a flowing and intricate design that almost resembled a beautifully arching branch wrapped in some leaved vine, blooming towards the upper reaches of the fabric. A small panel below the cups had a similar, symmetrical design, and a bordering of stitching along the bottom. It was probably safe to assume that her panties would match, when they were revealed.

Andi watched as the man soaked in the sight of her softly heaving chest, her breaths deep and at a slightly elevated pace.

 

[MrAdam]

Brandon lay over her, his white cotton shirt unbuttoned, the material pushed out of the way and bunched together down each side of his torso. After whispering in her ear, he shifted his lithe form a little to see her reaction and to allow Andi a bit more space in which to manoeuvre. His eyes met hers, a half-smile playing on his lips as he watched her. This is one of those moments in life that you always remember, he thought to himself, and he thought he saw a similar sentiment in her own expression. A moment that we've probably both fantasised about, to be remembered and filed under 'reality' rather than 'dreams', 'memory', not 'fantasy'.

Brandon watched her take hold of the hem of her t-shirt and whip it off in one smooth, flowing movement. He watched it slide up her beautiful body, unveiling more and more. He softly exhaled the breath that he hadn't realised he was holding as she arched her back just a little as she pulled her t-shirt up over her breasts, then over her head, letting it drop superfluously to the floor, leaving her dark hair alluringly dishevelled.

Andi had lifted herself a little from the couch in taking off her t-shirt, and now she settled back down, watching him. Brandon let his gaze wander over her, taking in her near-naked beauty. He had never pictured her as being one for exotic or expensive lingerie, but he was seldom as happy to be shown to be wrong as at that moment. It had always been a particular... weakness of his, and though he doubted he could have desired her any less in plainer underwear, there was something undeniably special about the way the silky garment was a perfect faux-imperfect fit, lifting and constraining, enhancing and accenting. She took his hands and slid them up her bare torso to just below her breasts, his fingers grazing the silky fabric.

“You'll have to remove this one yourself, gorgeous” she said, a smile on her face.

Brandon was tempted to do just that, then and there. His mind was swimming with ideas and possibilities, but as she had said, they had all night. And, he hoped, many more nights to come. Another strong temptation was to deliberately misunderstand and start unfastening her jeans. Lingerie like that was almost always a matching set, and he wanted to see the full effect, bra and panties and nothing else.... at least for a short time. Another... weakness of his. But there was no rush.

“You, Andi, are beautiful beyond my wildest imaginings” he murmured, his mouth suddenly dry, his voice catching, a little hoarse and more than a little breathless.

He slowly, carefully slid his hands up onto her breasts, very gently caressing and squeezing, as if she might be delicate. The palms of his hands moved slowly over and over her breasts, only the silk fabric between them, as his fingers strayed onto the bare upper slopes. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath, and the urge to kiss her again became too strong to resist. He shifted over her again, his lips seeking hers, his gentle hands still caressing her half-exposed breasts.

He kissed her passionately, his left arm sliding around her shoulders as he shifted to lie forward to press his chest against hers, his right still on her breast. He tried unsuccessfully to pull his shirt-halves out of the way, so they wouldn’t form a barrier between them. “Hang on” he murmured, grinning at his own clumsiness. He moved to a more upright position again, grabbing the hems of his shirt-halves and rolling his shoulders to slide his arms free. Now naked to the waist, and unencumbered by cotton, he moved to recommence his previous endeavours... to kiss her lips, and to feel her nearly-bare chest against his.

 

[Lucky_XIII]

It wasn't what he said so much as how he said it. Although is words were flattering, and truly meant a lot to the woman to which they were spoke, they were just that: words. Saying something didn't make it true and Andi was weary of liars. But Brandon. He wasn't giving her compliments in the attempt to gain something for himself, to further secure the position Andi had already offered him between her legs. The catch of his voice as he spoke, the breathlessness behind it, the tone of his murmur...it was all so very real. A genuineness that Andi wasn't accustomed.

"Thank you," she spoke with a soft smile upon her lips, adoration evident in her gaze.

His hands moved to tenderly cup at her breasts. Again, Andi's back arched; she pushed herself into his hands, soaking in his gentle fondling. She could feel her nipples hardening, rubbing lightly against the soft material of her bra, which was no doubt thin enough that Brandon could feel their aching want pushing in to his palms as his fingers explored the bare flesh of her upper globes.

He lowered himself to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders while one hand remained on her chest, his lips seeking hers. Andi lifted herself at the neck to meet his mouth without the slightest hesitation.

The kiss was short lived, though no less amazing because of the fact.

Andi's light blue eyes took great liberties of Brandon's flesh as he lifted himself from her. The peek of his skin...the contour of his body, flashing in short glimpses as he moved to remove his shirt...the grace of his shoulders, as they freed themselves from their cotton constraints. She watched as he unveiled himself, awe-struck.

So painfully obvious, she suddenly thought. Sarah was right, after all.

Three years of staring at the man's perfect body when he was looking the other way. Sarah only needed to be around for Andi's shift for a week to so easily see her co-worker's yearning as she stole such visions whenever possible.

Andi recalled the very moment she had become transfixed on Brandon on his physical merits alone: it had happened during her interview. Of course, he was unbelievably handsome to begin with, but one glance at his wedding ring had convinced the at-the-time teenager to resist her immediate attraction. They had been sitting at a table at the front of house of Black Pines, Brandon dressed formally but not intimidatingly (he had removed his jacket and had on a dress shirt much like the one he wore this evening). Someone from the back of house called forward a question unrelated to the interview, and Brandon had turned to look back at them before replying. The twist at his waist as he placed his arm on the back of the chair drew his shirt against his slender form, and Andi felt her heart skip a beat. From that day on, she couldn't help but glance at his belt, the light cutting it made towards his slenderness under the billowing of his shirt. Brandon didn't wear ill fitting clothes, of course, so it was not as if he was concealing himself beneath a tent. But nor did he wear shirts that clung tightly against him. The casual looseness of his dress had always taunted Andi, dared her to seek out the shape of the body beneath.

And here it was, as perfect as she could have ever imagined. "Brandon," she spoke just barely above a whisper. "I know it is customary to pay for a compliment with one in return, but I hope the fact that yours came first will not make mine seem any less sincere." She paused for a moment. "I can't even think to express your attractiveness in terms of defined beauty. You are, simply, everything I've ever wanted."

Brandon lowered himself, bringing his lips into contact with hers. Andi returned the kiss passionately, giving a light sigh of contentment as she did so.

Her hands trailed down the sides of his chest before resting on the slenderness of his waist. Her fingers curled, grasping at the man gently but firmly, her hands drawing him in as if she sought to bring their bodies closer.

The two continued to make out for several minutes. From the kitchen counter, Andi's cellphone rang. One of her hands having long before made its way into Brandon's hair, her tender yet insistent grasp of him suggested she didn't want him to draw away for her to answer the call.

A minute passed. Within twenty seconds of the cellphone going quiet, it made a short-lived beeping noise. On would assume a voicemail, though the owner of the phone knew the indication to mean a text message. Andi continued to ignore it.

And then, fifty seconds later, another text message.

Andi finally broke the kiss. "For fuck sake," she complained. Brandon didn't appear too disturbed over the sudden separation of their lips, no doubt assuming the messages might be something that Andi needed to pay mind. Before he could make any suggestion or comment, Andi explained, "Apparently someone really wants me to pick up a shift for them...I assure you, no one else calls." Well now that just sounds sad. "I mean, I'd talk to my family - I'm not such an ass that they wouldn't call - but both of my parents died last year and I don't have any siblings." That didn't help.

The woman didn't appear upset at the mentioning, though she looked somewhat uncertain. Uncertain, mostly, of what would compel her to say such things, questioning why she would so effectively kill the moment she had been so blissfully enjoying. Uncertain of what his response would be, even less so certain of what she wanted from him.

 

[MrAdam]

Brandon was surprised at Andi's close attention and her reaction as he slid his shirt off. He kept himself in good shape – he ran most days, weather and time permitting, and often went to the gym when they didn't. But he never thought of himself as having a particularly attractive body. He was short and slight, and he knew he had done fairly well given his genetic inheritance - lean muscle and a certain grace of movement allowed him to qualify for “lithe” rather than just “skinny”. However, his height and build ruled him out entirely from consideration by about a third of women, and although he knew he was generally thought of as attractive, he secretly suspected that most of the remaining two thirds would rather someone taller. Often he had been made to think that he fell entirely on the wrong side of the “cute”/”handsome” divide. His self esteem hadn't been bolstered by the fact that it had been some time since.... well, since anyone looked at him in the way that Andi was at that moment.

Marriage, routine, kids, routine. Familiarity breeds... if not quite contempt, then at least the potential for stagnation. Not every night could be like the first night – their prom night – or like their honeymoon nights. He knew that after kids, some women started to.... lose interest a little. Special occasions could still be special, but what Brandon didn't realise at the time was that Deborah's loss of interest mainly took the form of loss of interest in him. For months he had tortured himself as to why this might have been, what he should have done differently, where he had failed. For make no mistake about it, getting a divorce was a failure, and a sign that he had failed as a husband and a father. While his father was not around to see it, and his mother would never be so direct, he could see the sad, silent judgement in her eyes. There was little about himself, his nature, or his life that he hadn't held up for revision and for judgement to find out what he'd done wrong. It was only in the last few months that another possibility started to occur to him. That he'd fundamentally misjudged her nature and her priorities for years, and that the signs were there from the very start.

Not that he was thinking of her now. Brandon was in a pleasant bubble of thoughts and sensations that thoughts of his ex-wife were entirely outside – not that he was even aware of it. It was wonderful, watching Andi's gaze devour him. Wonderful to feel wanted, desired like that. Wonderful to feel the power of evoking feelings like that it another, especially one whose desires he reciprocated. He had thought he had noticed her looking a few times before, but had never been entirely sure – or did not want to admit it to himself.

He lowered himself to kiss her once more, newly unencumbered. His chest was well-defined with a covering of dark curly hair. while he couldn't quite claim the vanity grail of the “six pack”, his stomach was taut, with barely an ounce of fat on him. He started a little when the phone rang, but Andi's fingers told him it was going to go to answerphone. He was hardly going to object – they'd waited long enough, so whoever that was could wait their turn too. But the damn thing kept chirruping away to itself, and Brandon untangled himself to allow her to go and get it. But not before he'd taken the liberty of running his hand over the curve of her behind as she rose from the couch and moved towards the kitchen.

"Apparently someone really wants me to pick up a shift for them...I assure you, no one else calls. I mean, I'd talk to my family - I'm not such an ass that they wouldn't call - but both of my parents died last year and I don't have any siblings."

Brandon rose from the couch, still bare chested, and stood facing the kitchen. Andi was looking back at him, framed by the doorway. There was a curious expression on her face, as if she felt she'd said too much, or said the wrong thing. She looked so vulnerable to Brandon at that moment, in a way that he had never seen from her, not ever expected to see. Her state of semi-undress added to the impression of vulnerability.

“So you're all alone in the world...” Brandon murmured, without meaning to, but loud enough for her to hear. All alone. This was something he could barely imagine. Family and extended had been at the centre of life, central to his understanding of the world and of himself. It was considerations of family that defined every key moment in his life. To withdrawing from college to take over the family investments, to marrying young, to agonising over his divorce. Providing for your family was at the centre of his notion of masculinity, and beyond your family, the extended family, and – he increasingly believed – the broader family of the local community. He just couldn't imagine not having that solid, central bedrock of identity and belonging to fall back upon. While the loss of his father had hit him hard, it merely served to emphasise the centrality of family to everything. For who else could anyone cope, if not through shared grief?

Last year? It took him a moment to register. Last year? That meant..... she'd lost her parents, and he never knew. She never said a word about it. Thinking back, he remembered her taking a few days off to go home for a bit, and in such a manner that brooked little negotiation. He'd assumed that she'd broken up with a boyfriend or something, and she'd let him. And... he remembered with a guilty start, he'd given her shit about it when she'd returned to work. Fucking hell. Then another thought. Did everyone know except him? Jesus.

He was silent, processing all this. Compassion, and worry, and guilt were all written in his expression. The wretchedness of being alone in the world threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, his dark eyes moist for a moment or two as he tried to imagine what that must be like.

“I'm sorry for your loss, Andi.” he said, eventually. “I can't imagine... I mean, I have no idea...”. He took a few steps towards her to draw her into an embrace. An embrace that was not offered exclusively for her benefit.

 

[Lucky_XIII]

“So you're all alone in the world...” Brandon responded quietly in a sad tone. He seemed to be considering what exactly that meant, envisioning what it must be like to be someone in a position as infinitely lonely as Andi's.

Now you've done it, she thought to herself. You've gone and made him feel sorry for you, you poor little tortured princess. She stood in the frameway of the kitchen, watching her company in silent study. She didn't want his pity, though she suspected she was about to get a healthy dose, and she worried that whatever she could say to counter such thoughts would only make it worse. So she kept her mouth shut and waited until such a moment as Brandon saw fit to approach her.

A long pause existed between them before her company continued to speak. “I'm sorry for your loss, Andi. I can't imagine... I mean, I have no idea...” He stepped close to her, finding her gently and gratefully accepting his embrace. A hand stroked through his hair, as if he was the one who needed comfort.

"Thank you, Brandon...although, I don't deserve or want your sympathy...I mean, this is exactly why I didn't tell anyone about it a year ago." She could just imagine the customers, giving her a sad and knowing look as she passed them their coffee. The thought alone made her feel ashamed with a tinge of remorseful anger.

"It should be a big deal to me, shouldn't it?" she asked quietly, drawing back slightly as she dropped her hand to his shoulder. "But...truth be told, their deaths meant nothing. I didn't love them, Brandon, in fact I grew up feeding off a resentment of them and their excessive lifestyles. They were selfish, arrogant twats; they treated everyone as an inferior, like modern day lackeys, and they were of well means, so people put up with their bullshit. I didn't wish them dead, of course, but my reaction to the accident was less 'oh my god, what will I do without them' and more so 'I'm a horrible person for not feeling anything'. I'm a walking void." A slow blink caused for a tear to fall down her right cheek, much in contrast to her claim. She made no attempt to wipe it away as she continued. "At their funeral, I distinctly recall being more disheartened by the fact that none of my former friends felt the need to be there for me than the fact that my parents were laying in caskets."

You're a monster, Andi remarked within her own mind. And at least as selfish as either of them. Just listen to yourself! You weren't abused. You were always fortunate and cared for, even if it was only the house staff that took an interest in your well-being.

"It does no good to insult the dead," she concluded. "But suffice it to say that I was born to man of inherited wealth in his mid-forties, to a teenager who was openly covetous of the things he could buy her, the places he could take her. And they had an awesome life together, I'm sure, and good for them." She paused. "Make your own conclusions from that, I'd really rather not talk about it."

Which is why you just spilled half of your life story as his feet. Jesus, Andi.

She sighed, looking away as she tried to control the further building of tears in her eyes. Her sight fell on the bar-style counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, settling on her cellphone. Who knew that something such as a random off-guarded comment in response to text messages would result in the closest thing to a meltdown Andi had experienced since she moved here?

The woman glanced back at Brandon. "I'm sorry, I...I'm a mess. I thought I was getting better, but I guess I'm still just as fucked up as I ever was."

 

[MrAdam]

Brandon let her draw away a little, her hand on his shoulder, his arms round her waist. He watched her as she spoke, head titled a little to one side.

Her reaction to her parents' death wasn't what he had been expecting, but her blunt, almost brutal honesty about her reaction was something that perhaps shouldn't have surprised him. And.... her words resonated. The death of a parent was a complicated business, both at once was complication squared. He thought back to his own reaction to his father's death. Of course he was sad. Of course he mourned him. Of course he missed him, even now, years later. But was there no shadow of resentment about his father's controlling nature? About his use of emotional blackmail to make him do what he wanted? To quit college? To marry young? To have kids young?

Of course there was. There was a part of him that.... that wasn't glad exactly, that was relieved. And try as he might to explain that away as relief that his father had a good death, that his suffering was over, that he would never have to suffer the prolonged indignities that he so feared.... that was not the full story. His father's death was necessary for him to come into his own, to run the family businesses, to be head of the family. To get the full respect and status to which his talents and work and achievements entitled him. More than entitled him. He had proved himself over and over again, but nothing was ever quite enough. The sick old man had asked him to take over, but wouldn't ever let him properly take over. Brandon sensed that his father resented his youth and strength and independence of mind and perhaps even his successes. Complicated business, fathers and sons. Freud knew it. Shakespeare knew it. Hell, even the ancient Greeks knew it.

But it was another part of what she said that really struck home. A father who inherited wealth, a mother covetous of the things it could buy her. How would his own children describe him and their mother? Wasn't much the same true of them? The thought filled him with ice cold dread for a moment – not at the prospect of being unmourned, of course, but of the prospect of failing his children. Of his wife failing their children. He quickly tried to reassure himself – while there was much that could justly be said about Deborah and about him, they both put their children first. Deborah's constant status anxiety and shallow materialism meant she wasn't setting the greatest example, but he could counteract the worst of that, and ultimately, whatever he thought of her now, what remained true was that she was a good mother to their children. But the thought left him a little unsettled. Good, he thought. You should be unsettled. Don't fuck up.

All this took but an instant, and he filed the thought away for further reflection in the future.
“Andi” he said slowly, expression serious, looking straight into her eyes. He gently placed his hands on her cheeks, wiping away the tear with his thumb. “You listen to me, now. I have four things to say to you. You may not like all of them. Tough shit.” His voice was low, and he spoke slowly – his firm, authoritative tone, brooking no interruption or contradiction.

“First. Truth is, we're all fucked up. Each and every one of us, in one way or another. Just for different reasons, and some have better reasons than others. Second.... you don't want or deserve my sympathy? Tough. I'm sorry that your parents were selfish, arrogant twats. There. I feel sorry for you... not pity, sympathy. Sympathy means what hurts you in some way hurts me too, pains me to think of it. Because you know what? That's how friends are. And if we're going to do... whatever it is that we end up doing, what this ends up being... you're going to have to get used to that. Because it's not negotiable. You want me to be your friend? Share your bed? You want us to have a relationship? For any of that to happen, you have to let me care about you. As for 'deserve'..... I decide who deserves my sympathy, my time, my attention, whatever. Me. Not you.”

“Third. 'You're a 'walking void' are you? What the actual fuck? Know what I think? I think the difference between you and most other people is that you're not taken in by your own bullshit and the fucking....... Disneyfication of emotion that's everywhere these days. The way you were looking at me earlier... walking void.... no, not having that, Andi. Not at all. From where I'm standing, I see a porcupine. You wrap your spikes around you to ward people off, keep them at bay, for people to bounce off. You've got your own reasons for that, but behind the spines, I don't see a walking void, Andi, I see you. Sometimes just glimpses, but I think I see you.”

“Fourth...” his voice dropped further, almost to a whisper, his tone now much softer, kinder. “Fourth.... I don't ever want you to worry or feel embarrassed about crying in front of me. One day I want you to feel safe to do that.”

 

[Lucky_XIII]

He was right. About everything. Andi listened intently as he spoke, finding no reason to challenge anything that he said. She stared into his eyes as he told her some truths that she needed to hear. It had been so long since anyone bothered to be direct, honest with their own perspective of her wallowing. Andi was more accustomed to pandering and feigned concern; and, in the case of her parents, a turning of her sadness to a case to use against her, ever reminding her that she was ungrateful of everything they had given. They refused to even acknowledge that such had been in trade for the time they didn't care to spend with their daughter. She had things. And things to do! School, ballet classes, a variety of fine arts and sport activities.

She was fortunate, there was no denying that. More so than most. Living in the past, holding on for so long that it made her bleed; forcing isolation upon herself. It wasn't healthy - and it wasn't reasonable - to live that way. She had to move on. It would always linger within her, of course. But she couldn't let it be the focus of her existence, to ever be on guard in the presence of others because of it.

Brandon. He had already kept her more sane than he could ever know. She had a reason to leave her tower, had something that made her feel more like everyone else. A job that she didn't want to go to, even though it wasn't so bad once she was there. A connection to people she liked and could interact with on a superficial level. And, on occasion, she had the opportunity to oggle her hot boss...and that had always been a considerable a bonus.

After he finished speaking, Andi gave him a soft smile before laying her head on his shoulder, nestling her face against the base of his neck. "Thank you, Brandon."

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. She wasn't going to cry; she had cried enough in her life, over exactly this, over and over.

For the span of several long moments, she merely remained cuddled against him. "I don't know about of the prospect of crying in your company, though. As soothing as it would be to be held thusly while I wept... Your comfort doesn't inspire me to be sad." She raised her head from his shoulder. "One day, perhaps, I'll have a full-blown meltdown or some new tragic thing to cry about," she spoke as if it was a positive prospect. Then, in a softer, more serious tone. "But...this? It's pained me for a long time, and I have to get over it. Tears won't help anymore. But talking about it to someone did, so...thanks, again."

"And for the record I already feel safe with you," she added, bringing her face close to his. "I wouldn't have brought up something that pains me and has the potential to make me cry in your company if I didn't."

She gave him a soft, sincere smile.