Hot Loser Mike

A/N I love how we\'re all here cos we\'re completely sexually frustrated. If we actually had someone to do all this stuff with, we most certainly would not be online, reading fics. *le sigh*

It had been two weeks since he had spoken to me in person. We had gone on a date two weeks before, and we had really hit it off, and the conversation had taken a hot turn. Long story short, he got cold feet, and as a result, blue balls. And this was the first time he’d spoken to me since then.

“Hey Betty.” He couldn’t look me in the eye, and focused on the protein bar he was eating.

“Hey Mike.” I couldn’t help but look at him—he’s just so beautiful, it’s almost surreal that he’d be talking to me. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it has been. Lots of work?”

“Yeah.”

Stimulating conversation, wasn’t it? Yeah, that’s why we call him Hot Loser Mike behind his back. Although I knew he could be interesting enough…

I was brought back to life when he asked me “so what are you doing this weekend?”

“Um, I don’t know… I was thinking of going to go see Jill’s show on Friday. Wanna come with?” I was startled by the sudden directness of his gaze.

“Yes! I mean, yeah, that would be cool.” We exchanged money and tickets and decided on when and where we’d meet.

You can hear the awkwardness dripping out of the conversation, can’t you? It was like listening to fingernails on the chalkboard!

~~~~~ Fast Forward to Friday night~~~~

I met Hot Loser Mike at the theater, dressed in my favorite outfit: black pants, seamless underwear, and a black shirt that opened up sexily to show off my considerable cleavage. I hadn’t bothered to pin it that evening, so I knew I’d be adjusting it. He wasn’t too bad either, to say the least. His adorable face, with those dimples that I dreamed about, was freshly shaven, although his Italian heritage was betraying him and he already looked slightly scruffy. He wore a tight black shirt that showcased all of the muscles in chest and stomach. I wasn’t usually the type to be drawn to the hard bodies—I prefer a little squish, if you know what I mean, but I figured I had enough squish between the two of us. My stomach dropped a little when he grinned at me and his eyes flashed to my breasts.

“Hey,” he greeted me, obviously trying to wipe the smile off his face and just as obviously not succeeding. “you look good. Like, really good.”

“Hey now!” I chuckled. “I’m going to start thinking you only like me for my ravishing good looks!” Which, I knew, couldn’t possibly be the case. I couldn’t even believe that a guy like that, a guy that made me get all giggly and warm inside, would ever stare at me like that, except in derision. And mostly rejection.

The conversation flowed a bit easier, now that he felt able to flirt a bit more, without him pissing me off. We went inside and found our seats, which were mezzanine first row—some of the best seats in the house, actually. We talked and joked until the lights went down, and Mike took my hand in his.

I looked at him sideways, praying that he wasn’t just teasing me again, that this time he might be serious about his sensual overtures, but he kept staring forward, our hands clasped together, my fingers cold, his warm.

The play was excellent, Jill was hilarious in her role, but I couldn’t help but focus strongly on the handholding. Somewhere in the middle of the second act, Mike disengaged his hand from mine and began to trace random patterns along my right leg, sending shivers through me, as though he were touching something deeper and more private. Without turning my eyes from the stage, where Jill had fallen down in a drunken stupor, I took the opportunity to drag my nails ever so lightly along the inside of his thigh, carefully avoiding anything vital, although I heard his breathing grow a bit more labored—he is very ticklish. Suddenly he grabbed my hand and clasped it against his face. “Betty, you’ve gotta stop…” his face was obviously red, even in the low light of the theater. “I can’t hold it together if you keep doing that!”

I let a wicked smile quirk up the side of my face and felt that it would be appropriate to snuggle close against his arm, which surprisingly enough he wrapped around me. Too soon, the show was over, and the lights went on and I could see the tent that had formed in his pants. I gave him a meaningful look, and let out a laugh. He couldn’t deny the attraction anymore now, could he? He blushed and muttered “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you in the front, ok?”

After he came back, looking considerably more relaxed, he took my hand again, in front of all the people that were pouring out of the theater. What was he playing at? Was he going to just drop me on my head again and insist that he can’t date friends? I couldn’t deny how lovely it felt to be there, holding his hand like we belonged together, but I couldn’t let myself believe his intentions. He was too fickle to trust. Suddenly someone threw their arms around my neck.

“Betty!” I whirled around and dropped Mike’s hand. It was Jill, still in her stage make up. “Did you like the show?”

I squealed and hugged her tight. “It was wonderful!” I grinned.

“Who is that?” She asked me meaningfully, pointing with her chin at Mike. “Is that Hot L-”

“This is my friend Mike,” I glared at her warningly, not wanting him to know that we had dubbed him Hot Loser Mike. “He came to the show with me.”

“Ah, I see.” Jill is not extraordinarily tactful, but she knew when to make an exit. “Well, I gotta get this crap off my face. I’ll see you later, ok hun?”
Mike came up behind me and placed his hand on the small of my back, and began to lead me out of the theater. “Bye Jill!” I called behind me. “Talk to you later!”

As soon as we were outside, he took my hand again, but he held it tighter than before, squeezing as though he would never let go. We walked in silence toward my room, which was all the way across campus, until he cleared his throat and broke it.

“Betty?”

“Hmm?” I turned to face him and he grabbed my other hand. My stomach was in knots and I just didn’t know what to do, all I could do was look into his eyes, my mouth going completely dry.

“Umm… um…” he stammered. He couldn’t get the words out, so he kissed me tentatively. He pulled away almost as soon as our lips met, but it was enough to bring the excitement bubbling to the top of my chest. “I think I like you.”

I giggled almost hysterically, this couldn’t be happening, not to girls like me. The guy was like a Greek statue, and I was more… shall we say rubenesque? “You like me?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice. “But last time we went out, you told me that you wouldn’t date your friends. Please, please, please Mike. Don’t play with my head, I can’t take it.” I started shaking and we sat down on a nearby step.

“Really Betty. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since then. I just couldn’t tell you, and I didn’t want to distract myself because of school and everything, but I just have to tell you that I’ve been hoping to see you everyday.”

My voice cracked and my eyes filled with tears. “Please, tell me this is for real.”

“This is for real.” I looked into his warm brown eyes, and saw the fear there, and the hope that I would tell him that I like him too. He smiled a little, trying to retain his bravado, but it failed, and that was more endearing than anything else.

I gulped inelegantly a couple of times and then blurted out “I like you too!”

He breathed out hard and exclaimed “oh thank god!” and we both sat there panting in the effort it took to get all that emotion out (I admit it, I was crying) and then he gathered me up in those arms of his and he kissed me as though the world was ending and I was the only thing that could save him. I kissed him back eagerly, I couldn’t get enough, my head light and my brain completely fuzzy, tears still streaming down my face as I smiled into his kisses, happier than I’d ever ever been.

I pressed closer against him, loving how my softness melted into his hardness, not caring that people were still walking by, that they were pointing and laughing, all I knew that I was in the arms of the man of my dreams, the man I never thought I could get. His rough beard scratched against my cheek as I opened my mouth to him, our tongues stroking each other, our lips clinging, teeth nipping, scraping against each other in that erotic way that tells your lover that if you could, you would climb inside him.

Finally we broke apart. I couldn’t stop crying and I could see his jaw was set tight against doing the same. Mike stood and pulled me up so that I could feel his entire body against mine in the tightest of embraces. I could feel all the angles of his body straining against mine, as he buried his face into my neck and kissed it sweetly. I thought I would pass out if it weren’t for his strong arms around me. He whispered in my ear “Can we go back to your room?” and goddamn if I didn’t grin like the Cheshire cat.

He took my hand in such a simple gesture that it was almost as sensual as the kisses we had shared—but not quite, lets be honest. Tottering up the hill on wobbly legs, we finally climbed the three flights of steps to my room, not even saying hello to the girls on my hall who greeted me, not stopping until I had unlocked the door and he closed it behind him, and locked it tight. We smiled at each other and kicked off our shoes. He held me in his arms as we both lowered ourselves onto the lumpy twin bed that I liked to call my own. Panting with desire, he kissed me hard on the lips again, but it was as though he had kissed me with his whole body, he was so tense, his body seemed to hardly have any weight at all.

I couldn’t help it, I had to feel his skin as his body moved so sinuously with mine. My hand slipped under his tight black shirt, and I moaned my appreciation as I touched his unbelievably defined muscled back. This couldn’t could NOT be happening. I felt the shudder run through his body as I touched his bare skin. He grunted as the thrill ran through him through his erection.

“Oh Betty,” he moaned against my throat, his tongue thrilling me, as his hands ran nervously along my sides, not wanting to offend, yet clearly salivating to touch me, to touch me everywhere.

“Mike, oh god, just touch me. Make me yours forever.”

“You are Betty, you are, you are. Forever.” He lifted his head for a moment, breaking the nonstop eroticism of the past fifteen minutes. He looked into my desire glazed eyes, and stroked the side of my face, moving a sweaty lock of hair off my cheek. “Betty, I am yours forever.”

I smiled weakly and kissed him gently on the tip of his nose. “You mean that?”

“Darling, I belong to you. I can’t imagine myself like this with anyone else. What do you say? Will you be mine?” He rolled over so that he was lying next to me and I turned to face him.

“Oh yes Mike. Oh I’ve belonged to you since I met you.” I held his hand against my cheek to keep from crying again.

He stroked one finger against her cheek and I did start to cry. So this is what its like to be in love, I thought to myself, to have this complete joy suffusing you, heating your cheeks, burning your body and yet purer than any other flame.

“I love you Mike.”

“I love you too Betty.” He kissed me then, a different kind of kiss than before, a gentler, more searching kiss that seemed to come from the heart, rather than the groin. I settled into the crook of his arm, and rested my head against him, loving the feeling that settled over me as we lay there, curled into each other, him stroking my hair, kissing my eyelids as a few stray tears made their way out, his hands touching me, not too insistently, but possessively. Within ten minutes, we were both asleep, holding each other.