Russ looked alarmed—he reached behind her, under her sweater. The zipper wasn’t hard to find, and it only got stuck twice on the way down. Russ unzipped it all the way, past her waist. Cherry collapsedonto her back. The dress immediately fell open around her shoulders and breasts. She was taking deep, gulping breaths. She was wearing a red push-up bra.
“Fuck,” Russ said. He was still inside her. He checked the condom and started pushing again. Cherry inhaled down to her navel. Russ was coming, and Cherry was almost coming—the oxygen rushed to her head.
She watched Russ finish—his hair was in his eyes, he bit his lip. She loved it. She wanted to eat it with a spoon.
When his face cleared, he grinned down at her. He held the condom with his left hand while he pulled out, and immediately slid his right hand into her. He rubbed her clit with his palm, then swept two fingers around it. Cherry always got the feeling that Russ had a repertoire, a few moves he’d try until something worked. She liked it. “Like that,” she’d say. She said it now, closing her eyes.
Russ laughed, he sounded happy.
“Like that,” she said again.
“Yeah,” he said. “Like that, Cherry, come on.”
Cherry squeezed her eyes shut. She dug her heels into the bed—she’d forgotten she was wearing shoes.
“Like that,” Russ said as she came.
They were lying in Russ’s bed. The top of Cherry’s dress was down, but she was still wearing her bra and cardigan and one high-heeled pump.
They’d made love again. It was too soon for Russ to come, but he’d rubbed Cherry until her clit felt fat and tender and she was squeezing her thighs closed around his forearm. Until her orgasms had started to hurt.
His fingers were still inside her vagina, lazily petting, and his head was resting on her shoulder. She was playing with his hair. They’d both been quiet for a while. She wondered if he was falling asleep. Cherry was too hungry to fall asleep.
Russ sighed. “I can’t believe I didn’t have you ride me in your cowgirl dress...”
She giggled.
He pulled his hand out of her pussy and lifted his head to kiss her, then dropped back down to her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her waist.
Cherry stroked his hair. She felt good. Tired. Hungry. Happy. Far away from the worst of her problems.
There was justonething... a question scratching at the back of Cherry’s throat...
She tried to swallow it.
It wasn’t a productive question. Or a useful one.
It had been scratching there for weeks, and she’d always managed to swallow it so far. It wasn’t, as Meg Jones would say, aprogress-oriented question. (Meg loved people who sped things up and loathed people who slowed things down. All of Cherry’s promotions were tied to how well she moved shit forward.)
Cherry cleared her throat.
Russ kissed her shoulder.
The question started to tumble out of her mouth, with momentum all its own—“Russ?”
“Hmm.”
“When you said earlier...” Cherry spun a lock of his hair around her index finger. “I mean, when you’ve said before...”
He kissed the top of her breast.
“...that you fell for me the night we met...”
He rubbed his face into her.
“I just...” Her chin was already trembling. She tried to still it. “Well, it makes me wonder why you didn’t... make a play for me.”
Russ was slow to lift his head. When he did, he looked serious.
