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March 5, 2009

Shelby and Tom (Part 2)

Part One found right here.

Shelby shivered slightly at the goose bumps Tom had raised along her skin. She ran her fingers into the thickness of short cut silvery blonde hair along Tom’s skull and laughed into his mouth as he pulled her against him for another kiss.

The wind picked up and blew Shelby’s hair around them both for a moment as they breathed into one another. The sound of the fall leaves rattling along the country dirt road sounded cold to Shelby but the truck’s ticking motor against her bottom and Tom’s strong arms around her warmed her to the core.

Shelby pulled back to look into Tom’s eyes. She wanted to see laughter, she wanted to see joy and she wanted to see the sea-deep blue color reflect the moonlight above them. She was surprised to find that his eyes, darkened by passion also held a hint of sadness.

The moment Shelby asked the question of why he looked so sad, Tom bent forward and rested his head against Shelby’s lap with his arms wrapped around her hips. He gave a bittersweet chuckle and told her, “Shelby, I have wanted to kiss you like this for so long. But I know you, I KNOW you. You are going to turn around in a minute, in an hour, tomorrow morning or even two days from now and just treat me like a friend.”

Knowing that what Tom said was true didn’t help lessen the sting of his words. Shelby’s stomach tightened and she felt herself stiffen. Tom hugged her tighter, rubbing his head along her hipbone and the curve of her waist. He said, “See, you are already pulling away from me... please don’t Shelby. Please?”

Shelby wondered to herself what it would hurt to let someone in? She knew Tom; she knew his big heart, his soft hands, and the small smile lines at the corner of his bright blue eyes that crinkled when laughed. She knew his love for children, she knew his family, and she knew his history and what he dreamed of for the future.

She didn’t do casual, she joked that she was a serial monogamist. If she was not dating someone seriously she would just abstain. So why was she suddenly fine with making out with her friend, her dance partner on a dirt road close to midnight on a school night?

Their pasts didn’t match and they each held different dreams for the future but Shelby realized that with this simple thing, this small thing Tom was asking of her she did not need to plan out every moment. She could just take the moment that they were sharing and cherish it.

She rubbed her hands along Tom’s broad back and felt him relax against her thighs. She bent along his spine and hugged him back. In that moment she laid her heart bare to him by whispering the only thing that came to her mind, “Don’t hurt me.” Tom’s replying whisper was even softer than hers as he said, “Never.”

Shelby straightened up and lightly scratched Tom’s back as he untangled his long arms from her waist and untucked her t-shirt from the back of her jeans. He lifted the hem but only slightly, enough to slide a warm hand up to the small of her back. Shelby breathed in through her nose as Tom’s hand found the small cleft of her back and rubbed his callused fingers up along the spine. She leaned into his hand and let herself just feel.

Tom’s hard hands turned to velvet at the touch of Shelby’s skin and his smooth and rhythmic massage of her lower back felt so delicious. Shelby untucked her shirt all the way and leaned forward. Tucking her head under Tom’s chin and pulling her shirt up a bit further, she gave his warm hands access to most of her back.

Shelby smelled the familiar scent of Tom’s cologne and breathed deeper, lifting her chin to catch a small kiss along the collar of his undershirt. She bowed her back up to meet his hands as he rubbed along the muscles lining her back and sides. It felt so good to be petted and she told Tom so, he answered with making a little purring noise so his chest rumbled against Shelby’s chin.

“I wish I could make that sound” she said. Tom replied with, “I’ll purr for you.” He drew his hands from her back and gently lacing his fingers behind her neck and through her hair, his thumbs resting gently along the line of her jaw he lifted her head up and covered Shelby’s mouth with his own.

Tom was so unsure of what to do next. In one moment his dance partner had gone from someone he watched over, to someone he wanted to drink in, to taste, to touch and to love. He had kept his feelings about Shelby to himself mainly because he was aware of how skittish she was with being anything except for friends with men.

On more than one occasion Tom thought to himself that someone had sure done a number on Shelby for her to be this wary of casually dating someone within her circle. She was always friendly, always kind, she did not turn away from much of anything and she was quite scrappy. Tom puzzled over her contradictions for one brief moment before he got the nerve to do something he had wanted to do since she was first in his arms on the dance floor.

Tom kissed Shelby openly, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He unlaced his fingers from her hair and reached for her elbows and then guided her arms around his neck. He whispered, “Hold on a second.” Into her mouth and watched her puzzled expression as he straightened up for a moment, breaking their kiss.

Since they had been dance partners for almost a year Tom was painfully aware of Shelby’s form. He knew the swell of her hips, the small nip of her waist, the long legs and the long graceful neck. He was also aware of her small tight breasts that pressed against his chest when they were on the dance floor. He had just never seen as much of her skin as he wanted to.

Her arms around his neck felt soft and light. He met her eyes and smiled at her and then took the hem of her shirt into his hands and lifted it an inch or so, lifting his left eyebrow in a question at the same time.

“Would it be terribly forward of me to ask if I can remove your shirt?” Tom asked. He winced inwardly at the question. It sounded so bawdy and kind of sleezy. He never wanted Shelby to feel anything but comfortable around him so he waited and watched her face as she weighed the question in her mind. He could almost see her thoughts; “Sure why not? Why not... well, because I’m not some WHORE... that’s why! But it’s Tom.”

Shelby’s mind raced at the innocent, yet not so innocent request from Tom. He was reading her face and she was sure whatever he thought she was thinking was probably spot on. She cocked her head to the right and smiled sweetly at Tom and lifted her arms slowly in a move of supplication and awareness.

Tom let out a breath he wasn’t aware of holding. He gathered the t-shirt in his hands and raised it over her head and up along her outstretched arms. He watched as her waist came into view, then the swell of her ribs, her small white bra; blue in the moonlight; then the delicate collarbones, the long neck and then her face smiling out at him from under a tangle of her hair that had fallen over her eyes.

He partially folded Shelby’s t-shirt, she grabbed it out of his hands and flung it over the side mirror on the truck. They laughed for a moment and the tension eased. Tom said, “Look at you, just look at you.” Shelby smartly responded, “I can’t... tell me what you see.” She sounded so brave and sure of herself, Tom was surprised to find a small bit of insecurity in her voice. He told himself, “Do not screw this up. Do not screw this up.” And he began to tell her what he saw.

Tom told her that she was beautiful, but not to sound trite he gave her examples; how her skin was so soft to the touch, her eyes were such a deep green that they put the pine forest around them to shame, that her hair was wild and soft, just like her. He told her that he had wanted to put his hands on her just to feel what if the body heat she gave off on the dance floor was just a product of their activity or was she just that warm. She was just that warm. He told her of the delicate freckles dusted along her shoulders, dipping across her chest and sprinkled across her nose. He told her of her smile. He encircled his hands around her small waist and his middle fingers almost touched at the small of her back, he told her of how holding her in his hands, engulfing her with his large hands made him feel protective and so tender towards her. He ran his hands up along her sides, to her ribs and to the small bra caging her breasts.

He put his hands around her ribs and ran his thumbs over the material of her bra lightly, watching her eyes to see if he was crossing a boundary that was not okay with her. Shelby smiled at him and reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She threw the little white bra over the door mirror along with her t-shirt and watched Tom’s face.

Tom looked at her petite breasts, small rounded flesh with most of the fullness below, giving them a little upturn. Shelby took his hands and put them on her breasts.

She was aware that they were small in comparison to the rest of her, but she was also completely fine with not having to worry about undergarments when she went shopping. Never having to say, “What bra will I wear with this halter top?” Was a bonus because she was small enough that the answer to that would be, “Don’t have to even wear a bra.”

Tom’s hands engulfed her small breasts, cupping them he felt her nipples rub against his palms.

He looked at Shelby and she leaned into him, hooking her heels behind his thighs and bringing him even closer, she kissed Tom deeply and felt his hands roaming over her skin, in her hair and along her face and neck. The cool winds of fall making her shiver with pleasure.

March 13, 2009

Welcome to my head. This space for rent.

Alright, check it. Here it is Friday the 13th (ooooheeeeweeeeuuuoooo!) and I am all strung out on a few things.

Thing the first. I have not smoked since Sunday. Not really of any consequence, just thought I’d throw it out there. No, I do not intend to quit. I just didn’t feel like smoking for a few days, so there. Nyah. Also, it wasn’t really that hard to NOT smoke, but I still feel like I deserve a cookie or some public dry humping or something.

Thing the second. Green Bay did not want me to leave. OMG. It was throwing snow at me and everyone else… it was like, “You lookin at me!? YOU LOOKIN AT ME! [screaming] FLIGHTS CANCELLED BITCHES!” Kind of intimidating in a very hot way. Yes, Green Bay, you are one hot mother fucker. And I love you. I did not want to leave you either. Yes, this is all very Stockholm Syndrome and everything, but I don’t care Mother! I love HIM!

(Wow… got a little Lifetime Television on you there. Sorry.)

Anyway, the Weetacon weekend was awesome. And I have pictures. And I love everyone there. And I won a trophy, with a motherfucking snowmobile (snow machine? I’m so confused) on it. Story to follow soon. Or, maybe not. You know how fickle I can be this time of year.

Thing the third. I have a sleep snorkel. That is all.

Thing the fourth. I was driving to work this morning and on my way I passed the post office nearest to my house. A big white van pulled slowly out of the post office parking lot and it looked so… dismal and scary on this rainy Friday that several things came to mind. The first one was of course, “Put the lotion in the basket…” from Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs with his creepy white van. The second was. Well, about Neal… y’all remember him right? Please forgive the formatting… tis an old entry.

Anyway, I had this vivid day dream or premonition or fantasy. Whatever label you want to use, please do so, I give you the liberty.

So here’s the scenario. I am at my normal Happy Hour hang out with the group that was with me a few weeks ago. Sitting around this little four-topper are Stacey, Stephen, Brad and I… surrounding us are Joey, his brother Billy Ray, Billy Ray’s wife and Joey and Billy Ray’s step father Chip. We are laughing, joking and having a great time with our beer and “Remember when…?”s.

I see Stacey’s eyes flicker to the front door, they widen and without thinking I slip from my bar stool, take my beer with me and slip over the railing of the bar onto the shuffle board table and then step lightly onto the floor. I ease around to see the front door when I see him.


He sees me and he storms into the bar, pushing people over and knocking a full jump tray from a waitress’ hand. She yells, “HEY!” at him and he doesn’t stop in his tracks. He is red in the face and his pupils are dilated. He comes after me in quick lunging steps.

I haven’t seen him or heard from him in over six years, seeing him out of the blue like this really throws me but I know that I can not hesitate and wonder why he is so angry with me or why he even thinks of me at all. I know I just have to take a stance and hurt him.

I turn my head slightly to the right and left as I back up to make sure that I am not going to bump into anyone as I crouch lightly and take the bottle of Michelob Ultra from my left hand with my right, holding the neck as the dregs of the beer trickle down my forearm to my right elbow. I raise the bottle and knock the bottom off on the back of an iron chair that is close and then bend at the knees waiting to spring as he barrels down on me.

Then the image stops.

Yeah, I know. Cah-Ra-Zeee!


It was interesting and has been in my brain since this morning. I have never, nor will I ever be in a bar brawl with a seven foot tall junkie and a broken beer bottle, but… welcome to my head space people.

About March 2009

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in March 2009. They are listed from oldest to newest.

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