Lost and Found (Chapter Ten)

“And what would you like to drink, sir?” The twenty something waitress turned to me, leaning a little to far in, giving me an ample view of what was down her shirt. If she thought her tits were going to buy her a nice tip, she was wrong. Still, it was a nice view. Felicity almost snarled at her, clearly seeing her attempt to... show me her cleavage, at least. Jealous? She must like me more than she let on.

“Coffee,” I answered with a delighted smile, which seemed to please her. “And a glass of water.”

“Um... I'll have to make a pot; We don't sell much coffee here.” As an afterthought she added, “Decaf?” It was a fair question seeing as it was just after eight.

“Regular.” Both the waitress and Felicity shot me odd looks.

“This late?” The waitress asked with a coquettish giggle, making her seem younger, or dumber, than she was.

“Sure, it's not even nine yet.” I turned to Felicity, “I have a high metabolism.” I added quietly as the waitress spun and crossed the room.

Looking me over hungrily she responded. “I bet you do.”

Before either of us could bat an eye our waitress was back with my coffee and water, along with Felicity's soda. The coffee came in a cheap looking Styrofoam cup and was accompanied by a plastic bottle of instant creamer. Felicity placed her order as I prepared the coffee, complete with ice borrowed from the glass of water. Honestly, that'd been the only reason I'd ordered it. I gave her my order as well and took a sip of my now warm coffee. I tried not to make a face as it hit my taste buds. It tasted like instant and looking down, I realized I could see partway through it, like black tea.

When the waitress left with our orders I pushed the Styrofoam cup aside. Felicity gave me a curious look, questioning look.

“It's crap. I'd be willing to bet that somewhere around here there's a can of cheap instant coffee.” I downed a gulp of the water, giving up on drinking the imitation coffee.

“I'm sorry, Dean.” She put special emphasis on my name; her lips moved slowly as she said it, almost as if she was caressing the word itself. “I have a bag of Starbucks at home. Let me make it up to you. We can have a few cups together.”

“Won't that keep you up?” I asked mockingly.

“I can think of a few ways to burn off the extra energy.” Her lips moved seductively as she spoke, leaving no room to guess her intent.

“It's too late to go for a run...”

Her eyes dropped to her soda. “For someone with an eight year old daughter, you sure are innocent sometimes.” She smiled at the thoughts running through her head.

I laughed. “I didn't want to infer unwelcomely.”

“Oh, you're welcome.” She spoke teasingly, tempting my mind to wander. “You know, I just realized something.”

“What?” I was genuinely puzzled this time.

“Where Rosemary gets her silk black hair. It looks good on you, brings out your eyes.”

I could feel myself blushing at the understated compliment. Even though, that was not my natural hair color. Somehow, that didn't make the compliment any less powerful.

“Thank you.”

“Something puzzles me though.”

“What?”

“How old are you?” S**t, this could be trouble.

“How old do you think I am?”

“Hmm, I would guess twenty four, though for some reason you a little look younger.” Whew, I had dodged a bullet, maybe, and hopefully the relief didn't show on my face.

“So, why do you say twenty four?”

“Well, that would've made you fifteen when Rosemary was conceived.” There was a long pause as she thought to herself. “So you were with her mother for nine years? Things usually don't work out that young. She must've been special.”

I paused, hoping that it would seem appropriate, a pause to mourn Rosemary's fictitious mother, my fictitious wife.

“She was.” My words came out with an attempt to sound pained. Then I shifted exuberantly, as if to change the subject, awkward as it was. “And I'm twenty five.” I hoped it wouldn't sound like too much to be believable.

“You seem like it. You're more mature... than the men I'm used to. It's refreshing.” She moved fluidly with the change in topic, perhaps not wanting to dwell on my dead wife either.

“Kids'll do that to you.” We both laughed somewhat awkwardly at the forced joke. I took a long sip of my water and swallowed hard.

After that the conversation cooled somewhat and it never really picked up again, not really. Despite that, there was a good bit of flirting and by now it was foolish to think that we weren't attracted to each other. Frequently, our hands found reasons to brush against one another atop the table and by the end of the night we were hand in hand, abandoning all pretense.

Bringing us the check, our waitress seemed vaguely disappointed at the newfound intimacy between the two of us. Momentarily, it occurred to me that she might not have been gunning for a big tip earlier, but flirting with me. I blushed faintly at the realization. It wasn't a real leap in logic to come to; we had seemed a bit platonic earlier, and her flirting seemed to die out as we got more lost in each other.

I found myself looking forward to the Starbucks more and more and as we paid the check and she gave me directions to her house over the last of our drinks. Writing the directions on a napkin, I eyed the still unfinished first cup of coffee. Maybe I was looking forward to that too. Finishing the directions, it occurred to me that I wouldn't be needing them since I would be following her car anyway. Could they be for later?

“Do you want a to go cup for that?” The waitress stirred me from my thoughts, gesturing to the nearly forgotten styrofoam cup.

“No.” I answered flatly, with a telling face.

“Didn't like it?”

“It was instant, wasn't it?” She nodded.

“No one's ever complained before.” Which doesn't mean they liked it.

“Then they were either being subtle or they weren't big coffee drinkers. Did any of them get refills?”

“Not many.”

“Then they were being subtle. Get real coffee, we can tell.”

Looking slighted she picked up the coffee and took a sip. It was apparent she was holding back a disgusted face.

“I''ll remember that.” Her smile was forced, either sarcastic or trying to get past the sick look from the coffee.

Felicity watched the scene awkwardly. She gave me a nervous half smile. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.” I was just as anxious as she was to leave. As she stood I took her hand graciously to lead her to her car. She stared at me, I didn't know what to make of it. It wasn't a seductive stare, it was just a blank stare with an ever growing grin, as if she had lost herself in my eyes. A faint, cheery smile crossed her face and she turned and started walking away.

Halfway to her car I followed, lost in my thoughts. I pinched myself. Yes, this was real, no fluke. I could feel bubbling passions inside her. I was going to enjoy my coffee tonight.

Her third floor apartment was considerably smaller than than mine, and likely the same rent. Of course, I also considered the possibility that my landlord was on crack for giving me my room so cheap. My building didn't have a super and the insurance was pricey, far out of my reach if I wanted to continue working only part time and keep the spacious loft. In short, if my toilet backed up I would be in deep s**t. Literally.

The apartment left a good bit to be desired. Though it had a wonderful design to it and clearly marvelous potential, her living room furniture was out of place and mismatched, like hand me downs or various yard sale purchases. Which isn't saying it wasn't nice, it just didn't work together or in the apartment.

I had been wondering what was missing in the uncluttered yet disorderly living room. Now, I knew. “You don't have a couch?”

“No.” She looked slightly embarrassed, turning from the shiny, black and chrome coffee maker. It was easily the nicest thing in both the kitchen and living room. It looked like something they used at Starbucks.

“Whenever I want to lay around I get in bed,” she gave me a devious grin, “which you are welcome to do, by the way. Or of course there are chairs,” gesturing to the chaos in the living room, “or barstools.” She then gestured to the bar separating the kitchen from the living room.

“Latte, double shot, or plain coffee?” She asked as I found my way atop a barstool facing the living room, sitting backwards in it to face her.

“That thing makes lattes?” I shouldn't have been so surprised, she looked like an amateur barista at it's controls. She nodded pridefully in response to my query.

“That would be great then.” With a short pause I tried to think of non-awkward conversation. “So, I take it you like coffee.”

“It gets me up in the morning, and I figure if you have to live with something, why not have the best.”

She did have a very nice kitchen and expensive looking leather barstools to go with. And, in contrast, the living room, with it's mismatched furniture, hardly looked lived in at all. I would bet her bed was equally high quality.

That was the direction I let my mind drift as I watched her prepare our lattes. I could easily imagine silk sheets on a soft pillow top mattress. I was snapped from my day dreams by her words.

“You know, I used to work part time in a coffee shop. It was just a second job.” She took a quick look around the apartment. “I could still use the extra money.”

“Why'd you quit?”

“Too much work, I used to doze off during nap time. I was supposed to be watching them. I quit working working kindergarten after that year, and I quit working at Heavenly Grounds too.”

“You really care about those kids.”

“Yeah.” She walked over to the bar with two steaming lattes, rich with foam. She sat across from me and I turned towards the bar, now facing her again. “I wasn't at my best, it's what they deserved, you know?” She paused to look down at her drink, it's rising steam splitting where it met her face. “But you don't want to hear about that, do you? That's not why you're here.”

I was really starting to hate people who assumed they could read my mind.

“No, it shows me this tender side of you. I don't think I would've ever guessed it was there. Before now.”

She looked up from her coffee, hopefully seeing the truth in my eyes.

“Before this, all I've seen in you was passion, now I see compassion. You're deeper than the average bimbo out walking the streets. I really like that. Like I can open up to you, like there can be more between us than bed sheets.” Grinning, I added, “not that I'd mind.”

“Maybe after the drinks; I worked hard on them, you know. Tell me what you think, okay?” And with no further notice she downed a large portion of her drink. In a hurry?

I lifted the cup to my lips, knowing it would be much too hot for me to work with. I liked to down my coffee quickly, let the caffeine hit me all at once. That just wasn't possible piping hot. Still, my hurried gulp was large, almost choking. Delicious. I imagined the coffeeshop gave her hell for trying to quit, it was the best straight latte I'd ever tasted. “Fabulous.” I just used the word fabulous, good god I must be nervous. “But it too hot for me to drink now. You mind If I let it cool?”

“Thought you'd never ask.” Forcefully, my empty hand came into her grasp and she pulled me to a door off the side of the living room. It wasn't exactly what I had meant, but I was going to roll with it.

Coming into the rather elaborate bedroom she still held my hand. Nearly everything in the room was decorated in vibrant shades of red and detailed in lace black patterns. It was the most passion evoking decor I had even seen. Even the wood in the large headboard and bedside tables was a deep red stain with a black grain.

Still holding onto my hard she pulled me close and kissed me hard. Her lips were insistent and pleading in the way they moved against mine. At first, I couldn't even move, but soon I found an opening pulled my head back slightly and moved in with a kiss with pushed her head back slightly. I could feel her lips draw back briefly into a smile. Then she, her lips, surged back at me and we fought for control on the kiss.

Back in my cynical high school years, I had a theory that all teachers had a bit of control issues. From the way Felicity kissed me then, I may have been right.

When our lips parted I noticed a tiny well of blood forming on her lip. Damn. Can't say I didn't feel kind of accomplished, but I was worried how she would take it. Then she licked her lips and I practically melted in her arms. This she must have taken as submission; she nearly lifted me off my feet as we quickly spun and I found myself penned to her bed.

Our middles meeting in such a way that slowly drove me crazy with excitement and anticipation, she sat straight up and began to unbutton her short sleeved blue blouse revealing the silky white bra underneath. It was adorned with the same black lace embroidery that could be found in many other places throughout the room. She smiled, knowing (and most likely feeling, considering what she was sitting on) how this was driving me over the edge with excitement.

Her top off, I slid my hands up her trim sides and slowly making their way over her bra, savoring the lace pattern beneath my fingertips. My hands continued until my fingers were laced behind her neck. I pulled her down to me for another passionate kiss and she slid down my body slightly as she came to meet my lips with hers.

One of her hands moved down to my waistline as we kissed and after undoing the first button on my button fly jeans she deftly undid the rest with nothing more than a flick of the wrist. Simultaneously, I undid the clasp at the back of her bra and it fell quickly, draping itself over my chest. Her hands drove themselves into my boxers and felt around delicately, playfully, until they found what they were looking for. She stroked at me lightly, using little more than her fingertips.

And then an odd little feeling began to develop in my stomach. This was a woman, and I was still a boy, at least by legal standards. Of course, at this point I had already broken numerous laws, so I brushed off that concern easily. But my mind quickly raised another concern; this was also my "daughter's" teacher. What would happen to Rosemary if things turned sour in our relationship? I had yet to reach the point of no return in my relationship with Felicity, though I was approaching it rapidly. And yet, how could I say no?

Felicity removed her hand from my pants and, after a long kiss, my shirt. Her lips meandered slowly down my chest until she reached my navel. Once there she lowered my pants and my c**k jumped up as if a spring was attached. I opened my mouth to tell her "no" just as she opened her mouth to swallow me whole.

I could say nothing. And as she alternated between bobbing up and down on me and sensual (and through) licking and kissing over the full length of my shaft, I could think nothing as well. Except that she was very f*****g good at what she was doing. However, I do admit that my perception may have been a bit skewed by the fact that I hadn't gotten any in quite awhile, which wasn't helping any either.

How can I say no?

After a few minutes of motionless struggle I finally regained the ability to speak, albeit momentarily. The word “no” escaped my lips breathily and weak. To this Felicity nodded her head and smiled. What? She climbed atop me and grabbed my shaft in one hand and pulled the crotch of her panties aside with the other. What! Clearly there's been a big misunderstanding. The head rubbed her cute button of a c**t and made its way to her lips which were practically overflowing. Oh god... No! I slid inside of her and she lowered her body onto mine until there was nothing left outside of her. She felt so wet and warm. The texture inside of her body was maddeningly pleasing. Oh how I wanted her to f**k me and never stop. How can I say no?

Like this, “No. I-can't-do-this. Oh F**K.” It was a good, bipolar, try. But it worked. She stopped grinding and sat on me, staring, clearly and understandably both puzzled and shocked at the same time. Still fully inside of, I could feel the tiny waves of pleasure still reverberating between our bodies. My body quivered.

“What.” IT was a simple statement just on the verge of being demanding. “Do you need a condom?”

“No. Nonono.” It seemed that I had regained the ability to talk but that my mouth was also set to ramble. I took a deep breath and tried to clear my spinning head to find the words to tell her.

“What is it then?” She asked with a hint of impatience.

“Rosemary.” I said finally, simply.

“Oh.”

“It's just that you're her teacher; I don't want to...” I paused, searching for the right word, “betray her.” I wasn't what I had been looking for but when I said it, even though It seemed a bit strong, it fit.

Felicity climbed off of me and walked to the bathroom door, then turned back to face me. My god is she gorgeous, I thought to myself, eyes racing from her beautiful, sloping shoulders to the curvy heart left visible by her thong. “Don't you want me?” A deep pain and longing to be loved was evident in her voice.

Again, I looked over her body, which was now fully facing me. “I... f*****g hell-yes-i-do! But! But what would happen then? I can't rise hurting you and hurting her. I love her. Shes the beautiful constant in my world and I would trade nothing for the integrity of her future. And, even if you say it's not true, I can't help but imagine that if this ends badly, she'll be hurt by it.”

A tear slid down Felicity's fragile cheekbone; so perfect that it would be easy to imagine that it had been crafted my a masterful artist instead of simply being born like that; like a typical human being. “Can't I just have tonight? You can forget me tomorrow if thats what you want, but I just need one night that I can feel whole.” If it wasn't hard enough to say no before, if was impossible now. So I just gave in, and things progressed more or less as they would have if my conscience hadn't kicked in. The big difference was that she cried throughout. I couldn't bare to see it so I closed my eyes til I came, but still I could feel the tears as they fell against my chest and found their way to the bed.

Afterwards, I just walked away too deeply ashamed of my self in too many ways to speak. But I did look back to see her face after putting my shift back on.

She smiled through the tears and looked me straight in the eyes and spoke. “Thank you. Thank you for making me feel loved, if only just this once. I know it took a lot to still have me after all you said, but... Thank you so much. I don't deserve someone like you, but I'm going to keep trying until I do.”

My eyes burned and my throat became a thick lump as I fought to hold back the tears. But even as I walked away I didn't allow myself to let the tears free.

In the elevator, on the way to the bottom floor, I lit a cigarette and tried to hold together what was left of my mind. I had sacrificed my principles to ease her pain. Sometimes I was just to damn nice for my own good.

On my way out of the building a person behind the front desk started giving me the third degree, but I felt that it was easier to just give them the finger and make a beeline for the exit to actually listen.

I made it to the street and got clear of the building. Feeling weak, I lowered myself to sit on the curb and think. Isn't she a teacher for the gratitude and love of her students? And there are so many of them, each one beautiful and innocent in their own way, why the hell does she still need someone like me?

The voice of a ghost broke me from my painful reverie. “Dean? Is that you? I'm so glad to see you!”

I knew even before I looked up to see her face.

Kitty.