A-wimoweh, a wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a wimoweh...
"A-wimoweh, a wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a wimoweh..." Bob sang along with the stereo, dancing his way back into the kitchen.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight...
"What the fuck is this shit?!" Clint demanded, looking up from his gaze directed towards the surface of the kitchen table with an incredulous expression.
"The Tokens!" Bob exclaimed matter-of-factly, snapping his fingers and wiggling his hips as he made his way to his chair next to Timber.
Ben chuckled moderately and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes Bob... sometimes." He smirked fondly.
Bob didn't bother to sit down but kept dancing, twirling around then grabbing Timber's hand. She began to laugh allowing him to pull her out of her seat.
"A-wimoweh, a wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a wimoweh..." Bob continued to sing, spinning her out from his body and smiling.
Timber began to laugh, ambling playfully back towards him.
"I think she's got crazy." Clint commented, shaking his head. "She must have caught it from Bob!"
Timber twirled to face Clint and shrugged. "It's airborne."
Bob too turned around so that he was behind Timber and could slip his arms around her waist. As he was doing so he paused, his eyes widening and he stabbed a finger at Ben. "You look different!" he exclaimed.
Ben looked around, wondering if Bob was directing such a harsh statement at someone standing near him.
The mood was officially lost and Timber stopped dancing. "Every pubescent girl's nightmare." She said to her best friend's exclamation.
"You do!" Bob reinforced stalking up to the smaller boy and leaning over until their faces were inches apart.
"You know, Bob, some people really don't like that." Timber informed him, reclaiming her seat at the table.
"You do kinda look different today... than usual I mean." Clint slowly agreed, squinting one eye to study Ben's appearance.
"You look a LOT younger." Bob asserted, looking to Clint for accordance.
His twin nodded as he too investigated the specimen who was one of their best friends.
"The hair." Bob commented. "It's a lot longer."
"Yeah, but it's been growing for a while, we would have noticed that sooner." Timber put in her two cents.
"I need to get it cut." Ben offered self-consciously, running his fingers forward through his curly bangs.
"It's curlier." Timber pointed out. "It's usually not that curly."
"That's 'cuz it's getting long." Clint reasoned, standing up from his seat and going to stand in front of Ben with his twin.
Timber hopped up and did the same.
Ben eyed the three scientists who stared at him from such close range.
"Wow... awkward situation... me in a... right now..." Ben started to say, leaning back into his chair to gain some personal space.
"YOUR EYES!!!" Bob shouted, stepping off as he clapped his hands, solving the ultimate mystery. "Your eyes are light green!" he exclaimed turning around at the counter to point an accusing finger at his friend.
Clint and Timber stood up as well.
"They're usually brown." Bob explained. "But now they're pale-ass green... blue..." he idled trying to decide what color was actually disguised in the white of Ben's eyes.
"Green... with a little blue, but definitely green." Timber nodded affirmatively.
Clint leaned very close to Ben's face and the seated boy held his breath. "Yep. I'd say green." Clint commented, the light scent of peanut butter and grape jelly from his breath sweeping over Ben's face. "That's green-ass green. Very light. That's really cool Ben. How'd you get green eyes?" he asked rising to full height.
"I wear contacts normally to make my eyes brown, and I left the same pair in for two months, but this morning one just randomly fell out in the shower. So now I have to order more." Ben explained. "I didn't even remember until you guys said something."
"Why would you make your eyes brown when they're that sweet of a color?!" Timber demanded, sitting on the table top with half of her bottom. "I mean, that's like a crystal, I-can-barely-see-it green. It's so pretty Ben."
"But I look like I'm ten." Ben countered her.
"True dat." Clint smirked.
"Okay Clint!" Timber said, not bothering to mask her irritation as she glared at him through the corner of her eye. "You will NEVER be as ghetto as Justin Timberlake so stoppit!"
Clint pouted. "Don't ever say that name in my presence again." He warned her dejectedly.
"You do look like you're ten." Bob nodded in agreement. He quickly realized his gaffe and added, "But that's why we love you so much."
Ben rolled his eyes. "Anyways, brown eyes make me look older, so I stick with that."
"I never thought about that." Timber nodded. "Eyes making you look older. That's pretty weird."
"Well, it's not like, proven, but it works with me." Ben reasoned.
"That's so cute Ben!" Timber suddenly giggled. "You're a little boy now!" she cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek.
He smacked her hand away. "That's why I wear contacts."
"No! You shouldn't wear them anymore! You look cool with green eyes." Bob stated, cocking his head to one side in order to investigate. "Like, you may be kind short, but you have a very muscular yet lean build. Like you just look petit, but still manly with the definition. And then you have light eyes, but darker skin kinda, so it looks mysterious and, you didn't hear me just say this, but kinda sexy, you know? And then the whole curly hair gives you that little-boy look, but in a little-boy-man way. So girls think, little boy... but sexy man little boy. You know what I mean?" Bob asked with a bright smile and salaciously raised eyebrows.
"Ummm... I think I'll go home now." Ben informed them.
"It doesn't help that he's a dancer does it?" Timber asked with a grin.
Ben's eyes widened. "Shut the hell up Timber!" he exclaimed. "I can't believe you!"
"What?" Bob and Clint asked in unison at the same pitch.
"I should really let Jeanine tell it because she knows better..." Timber trailed off.
"No, what!" Bob and Clint asked again.
"Shut up Timber! NOW!" Ben exclaimed.
Timber looked to Ben. "I have a big mouth!" she informed him, shrugging helplessly. "I can't help it!"
"What!" Bob and Clint asked once more.
"Okay, stop that now." Timber ordered in an airy announcer voice. "That's really fucked up." She said.
"Well what then?" Bob asked.
Ben hung his head. "Quick and painless, like a band-aid Timber." He ordered.
"Well fellas. We've got Michael Flattley LORD OF THE DANCE in here!" Timber announced in an obnoxious squawk, smiling plainly.
"You sounded like Adam Sandler in Happy Gilmore right there!" Clint giggled.
"She sounded like Adam Sandler in ALL his movies right there." Ben corrected.
Bob just stared. "Wait... okay. Can all the dancers in the group just break into song now so there aren't anymore surprises?" the younger of the two requested.
"No more surprises." Timber vowed. "Me, Ben, and Jen are the only ones who dance... the only ones who CAN dance." She smirked flippantly.
"Ben?!" Clint asked, chuckling. "She's bullshitting, right man?" he asked. "You aren't engaged in the girliest sport known to humankind... are you?"
"At least he honored it as a sport." Timber undertoned.
"Hey!" Ben exclaimed. "This girlie sport has me a complete free ride to The Julliard School in New York, or a spot in the American Ballet Theatre when I graduate, so don't fuck with it." He warned with a proud smile.
"He's really good you guys." Timber smirked. "He's been dancing longer than Jeanine!" she gushed. "He dances ballet, jazz, tap... he's so good! I wish I were that good!"
"My Mom made me go into ballet when I was two because Jame adamantly refused." Ben explained. "And then tap when I hit five, and jazz when I was seven. I was forced... but then I just got used to it, so I never really stopped. Jeanine and I took classes together actually, but she quite tap after a year."
"He told everyone he quit in eighth grade because the guys were hassling him." Timber put in.
"Thanks for the résumé Timber." Ben muttered
Bob just shook his head. "I thought all guy dancers were gay." He commented.
"No, actually they're mostly straight. I mean, if you got to be around half naked chicks all day, you'd dance too." Ben snickered.
"Hey, that's pretty cool. I mean, you get to dance ballet with girls and lift them up by the crotch... right?" Clint's eyes lit up. "I've seen Center Stage, I know what's up." He nodded with an indecent grin.
"Well, no, there isn't a lot of crotch lifting... notice I said 'a lot of' as opposed to 'any,' but it's all good." Ben nodded. "I actually taught a few classes during the year for some extra cash and it was good stuff.
"Didn't you teach eleven year old girls?" Timber asked with a wrinkled nose.
"AND I taught a few classes for adults." Ben rolled his eyes. "They thought I was sexy... with my body all tight and... sexy..." he smirked. "Dancing gives you an amazing body by the way. That's how I stay fit." He sighed arrogantly.
"Will you teach me to dance?" Clint asked intently, leaning forward towards Ben over the back of his usual chair at the table.
"But, you see, Clint... you don't have any rhythm." Bob informed his brother, teasingly.
"I could get rhythm." Clint pouted. "Couldn't I?" he asked Ben.
Ben nodded. "Sure you could." He smiled.
Timber rolled her eyes. "This is like an episode of Full House, all we need now is that cheesy music."
"Well Ben, I think it's cool that you dance. You shouldn't be ashamed to tell people; that's really cool. You're like the guy on Center Stage!" Bob commended his friend.
Ben nodded. "Thank you." He smiled. "You guys are pretty cool."
"And at least you didn't used to figure skate like Scott!" Clint chuckled.
* * * He heard the tires of his father's expedition speed in a decrescendo down the street as he entered the house; searching for what wreckage his eldest brother had left in his wake.
"Jeanine?" Dave called through the seemingly empty house. He followed the hallway to the end, peeking into each doorway, seeking sign of life. About halfway down the hall, he heard the sound of a muffled sob she simply could not keep at bay.
She was in an egg position on the kitchen floor by the counter. Her legs were tucked into her body, her arms wrapped around them in a fortress. Her face was buried in the valley of her knees and she was trembling.
"Oh my God..." Dave muttered, going to her and collapsing on the floor beside her form. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body close to his. "Jeanine..." he murmured, stroking back her feathery hair.
She oddly did not seem surprised to see him as she looked up from where she had hidden her face. Tears created a sheen over her skin and she sobbed helplessly, her fingers scratching over his chest in desperation.
"Dave..." she whispered through wracking sobs, letting her legs down and drawing her body into his completely. She clutched the front of his shirt in her fists and sobbed furiously into the cotton. "Dave..." was all she could muster.
"I'm here Jeanine." Dave whispered, hugging her to him tightly as her legs splayed out lithely on the tile. "I'm here, I promise." He rubbed her hair back. "I love you."
He allowed the words to slip off his tongue naturally, knowing he couldn't contain them for long.
Jeanine pulled back from him, turning her worn face towards his as she searched his eyes for falseness.
"I do..." he said in a breathy whisper, looking right into her brown eyes. "I love you." A light smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he awaited the happily-ever-after.
She stared at him for a moment, her deep brown eyes caught in his. "I..." she began slowly, searching for the correct words. "I'm bleeding." She whispered, her face taking on a new urgency. "I'm bleeding..." she began to cry again, clutching his tee-shirt tighter.
Dave's eyes widened, as he had no idea what to do with this new information. "Umm..." he started, but found he could not legitimately finish.
She became hysterical, trembling with fright. "I'm bleeding!" she cried out. "Dave!" she looked into his eyes fearfully, silently pleading for him to help her. She stared at him as if he held all the answers; as if when she were near him she had nothing to worry about because he would shield her from anything. She depended on him.
"Shhh... It's okay... you're not bleeding." He tried to soothe her, hugging her body back to his.
She pulled away from him. "Yes... yes I am!" she shrieked starting to sob.
Dave staggered to his feet from their position, gripping her shoulders and pulling her up with him. She cried out in pain, her knees nearly giving as she got to her feet. He hugged her to him, rubbing small concentric circles on her back to comfort her.
"You're not bleeding." He whispered in her ear, pressing her back into the counter as he leaned forward against her to grab a piece of paper towel off the roll. He hesitated for a moment before delicately slipping his hand under her skirt, slowly running his fingers between her thighs, then touching the paper towel between her legs. She winced. Removing the towel to plain sight, he spied a streak of fresh red blood glistening on the white quilting.
Jeanine started to cry harder yet, gripping him in fear, not knowing herself what to do but hoping he did. She was twelve years old again, confused and frustrated with her body, looking to other people for answers because she couldn't handle it on her own.
"You'll be okay." He whispered, smoothing back her hair. "I swear it. You'll be okay... As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you. I promise Jeanie, I promise."
She whimpered gently, pulling back. This time she was much more calm, though the tears still glistened in her eyes, as she looked him directly in the face.
Dave cracked a small smile, touching her cheek. "I love you." He adoringly told her, still choosing the wrong moment.
Her eyes narrowed, squeezing out a few more tears. Jeanine balled her hands into fists, angrily shoving him back from her before she turned and rushed out of the room.
"Jeanine!" he cried out in shock, surprised by her force, following after her.
He reached the hallway just in time to see her slam the door to the bathroom.
"Jeanine..." Dave whispered, wondering where he had gone wrong. He sighed in frustration.
Suddenly, the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he trudged to the door, leaning his back against it and hearing her sobbing from inside. Just when he had figured things out completely, something had to happen to ruin his happy ending. Something always had to ruin his happy ending. That something was usually Scott.
Dave slid down against the thick wooden door, plopping backside-first against the tile floor and just listening to her muffle sniffling from the other side. She was so close to him, but still he couldn't reach her. That was possibly one of the most frustrating feelings he had ever known. He was helpless. Just as he had been with Angela. And it was because of Scott.
When I get my hands on him... Dave thought spitefully, clenching his teeth in an animalistic snarl.
"Damnit." He muttered. He felt so stupid to be just sitting outside the door when she needed him.
"Dave?" she whined, sucking back more sobs.
He turned quickly, startled to hear her voice, anticipating some sort of action within the next moments. "Yes?" he asked eagerly, hands pressed firmly against the door, wanting to push through it.
"Why are you still here?" she asked, no accusation or annoyance in her tone, just an innocent sadness making her tone husky and loaded with wavering emotion.
Dave sat back, sighing slowly because he wasn't immediately sure he could say it again and have her believe him. "Because I love you Jeanie." He said softly. "And I... this kinda seems inopportune I guess, but I was thinking about what you said the other day..." he stammered, his own voice taking on a whiny pitch as he stumbled through his vehement words. "... and all that happened the other day... and I realized that... well... there is no other girl for me but you. After all the times Jeanie... I saw that what I felt all along was love for you, I was just so blindly infatuated by Angela..." he name tasted bad in his mouth even after they had made amends. "... that I didn't even realize what was so blatantly staring me in the face." He sighed, waiting to hear a sound of life from the other side of the door. It was completely silent, not even the coughing sobs he had heard before. Maybe she was holding her breath... like he was.
"And maybe this was a bad time, but that's what I came here to say. That I love you... and that I want to be with you... and... geez. I look like such a... chump. I shouldn't have... this is a bad time. Sorry. God. I guess this really sounds bad to be saying all of this right after what just happened. I'm being so selfish." He started to ramble, his voice lowering because he was addressing himself more than her. He finally gave up the incessant rambling and sighed, thumping his head back against the door in agony. "Jeanie... I never have good timing at all." He admitted. Scott always gets there first... "I'm too late again. I should have had it all worked out a long time ago... I'm so stupid."
The door to the bathroom unexpectedly opened and Dave gasped, falling backwards against the tile. Jeanine was kneeling beside his head, looking down at him pensively, as if she weren't quite sure what she wanted to say to him. Even if she wanted to speak, she could not because Dave launched into a brand new tirade.
"I didn't have sex with Angela, Jeanine. I swear it." His eyes were wide as he scraped for anything to help his case. "I'm glad I didn't because I would have regretted it. I don't want to just have sex with someone I don't love... and I love you." He smiled softly at the angelic quality her face held as it eclipsed the overhead lights, a halo affect around her head.
Her features darkened. "So you just came over here to fuck me. Right? That's what everyone comes here for! Just to fuck me and leave me!" she accused, struggling to move past him as he blocked the doorway. "No!" Dave shouted, struggling to sit up. "No! I shouldn't have said that right then. I didn't mean to say that I love you because I want to have sex with you I meant to say that I love you because I do and the sex thing was a totally different conversation! I Swear!"
She turned to stare at him, now kneeling in the hallway. "What?" she breathed. He was not making any sense.
Dave just shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. "Just shoot me. Please..." he muttered. After a moment he looked up at her. "Maybe I should just stop talking altogether. I mean... it's obvious that you don't understand a shit I'm saying because nothing I'm saying is coming out right at all..." he cut off, shaking his head and returning it to his hands.
He could not see it, but her facial expression softened to a semblance of a smile.
He had stayed. That was all she needed to know.
* * *
"Do you guys ever think that maybe we need lives?" Bob spoke up, suddenly sitting up from his reclining position on the end of the sofa.
Timber, on the other end, turned her head to gaze at him comically, eyebrow raised.
"I mean..." Bob continued, still looking at the television but addressing the other three in the room. "We just sit around most of the time. We just sit and make fun of each other and watch music videos. You know, if our lives were a TV show, it'd be pretty boring." He pointed out matter-of-factly. "Even worse, if you lives were a book... that'd just be boring as hell... Of course, if our lives were a book, I think Dave's character should have a lisp. You know, just to make it interesting. And Book Ben should look like he's hit puberty. Then again, real-life Ben should look like he's hit puberty..."
"I'll hit you!" Ben retaliated with much sass, smirking and seeming unphased. He leaned back in the recliner, crossing his feet at the ankles in a pair of khaki cargo's and a tee-shirt with the Periodic Table of Mixology on the front.
"And Book Timber should be fat." Bob continued. "Like... not chubby... but really, REALLY fat. Just fat in the ass... fat all over. Fat as hell. And in every part she's in, she should be eating like a Twinkie or something. That would be funny as hell." Bob snickered.
The other two boys laughed along with him.
Timber lifted the remote control from the coffee table and pointed it at her best friend. "Bob, do you know what happens when I aim this at you and press 'off'?" she warned.
"You should go eat a Twinkie now Timber!" Clint chortled, finding the joke incredibly giggle-worthy.
"No, she shouldn't." Ben disagreed jokingly. "She's already getting a little too fat."
Timber's jaw dropped as she feigned a comedic version of outrage, chuckling slowly but awkwardly.
"Yeah, really Timber." Clint put in. "You could stand to loose a few pounds. You're a fucking heifer. What do you weigh now? Almost two hundred?" he grinned.
"Yeah. Looks like she's already been taking advice from Book Timber." Bob put in. "She probably sneaks Twinkies and cakes and shit when we're not looking."
"I mean, you used to be skinny Timber, but now? You're HUGE!" Ben perpetuated.
Timber looked back to the television trying to continue grinning at their conversation.
"Yeah Tim. You look like you just sat down on a couch and sucked down lard. You have to have gained like twenty pounds." Clint snickered.
There was a silent moment when the three boys stared at her, waiting for her to respond with her usual sarcasm. She continued to stare at the television, completely sullen as she fought to keep the hurt out of her expression.
"Timber." Bob spoke up. "We're obviously kidding."
"Yeah." Ben agreed. "I was joking. The day you gain twenty pounds is the day you start looking like a normal human being." He smirked. "You actually look like you've lost weight... though I don't know where you'd have weight to loose." He quipped.
Timber looked back at Ben, then Bob, then she cracked a forced smile. "I obviously know you were kidding." She stated blandly.
"See, that's why you never talk about a girl's weight." Bob stated, shaking his head at his blunder.
"I thought that was only if they were like... fat." Clint pointed out. "I mean, Timmy isn't fat."
"I dunno. I didn't think it mattered if the person's skinny. It usually doesn't, but clearly we have struck a nerve." Ben snickered.
Timber glowered at them.
"Timber, we're sorry for making fun of you. We were kidding." Bob formally stated.
"Great. Now she's not going to eat." Ben rolled his eyes. "I hate how chicks always do that. I mean, what the hell? You wouldn't believe how many chicks are like that at the studio. It's so disgusting."
Timber continued to pretend as if she weren't paying any attention to them.
"Timber already doesn't eat." Bob grinned.
"Really?" Clint asked his twin, taking Bob's comment seriously. He then looked at Timber. "You're like... stick thin. Do you eat?" he asked.
Timber sighed loudly and pointedly. "I'm not even going to honor that with a reply. Do you guys ever shut up? I'm going home." She informed them, standing up and shaking her head as she walked out of the room and eventually left the house.
Once she was gone, Ben rolled his eyes. "You guys are so stupid." He hissed.
"Hey, Bob's on a roll with pissin' girls off today." Clint snickered.
Bob stuck his middle finger up at his twin.
"No, seriously." Ben leaned forward in the recliner. "That wasn't cool."
"Oh shut up. You were making fat jokes too. You started it." Clint shot back, returning his attention to the television. "What the fuck are we watching?" he asked, noticing that there was nothing notable on the screen.
"Yeah, that would be a Tide commercial." Bob stated, rolling his eyes at Clint's impatience.
"No, you guys, listen." Ben tried to regrasp their attention.
"What?" Bob asked.
"She really doesn't eat." Ben put in.
The caught both boys' attention.
"What are you talking about?" Bob asked. "If she didn't eat, she'd like... die."
"No, like... she eats, but like very, very, very little." Ben explained. "Like, next to nothing. All cuz she wants to stay thin or whatever."
"Timber's like ten pounds." Clint dismissed. "Seriously. Why would she even care? She weighs like... as much as my arm."
Bob snickered despite the perplexing conversation. "Shut up Clint, you're skinny as hell too." He rolled his eyes. "What do you mean Ben?"
Ben, who had returned to watching television when the other two didn't seem to want to hear what he had to say turned back to look at Bob. "Like, she doesn't eat. That's what I mean. She doesn't eat normal amounts. I mean, it's like obvious."
"I never really paid attention. I just thought she was a picky eater and shit." Clint shrugged.
"Yeah, picky to the point of not eating." Ben reinforced his idea. "I mean, at first, Jeanine was telling me how she suspected Timber was anorexic, and I was like 'well... whatever.' I thought she was just being a spazz because she dances and like, there's a lot of that going on. But then like, I watched how Timber acts. Like, when we all eat, she doesn't. Or she'll eat like two bites of something and that's it. I mean, I really think she is..." Ben inserted a hand gesture instead of completing his sentence with words.
"And then she just got all pissed just now." Clint agreed.
Bob shook his head. "Okay, yeah. Jen did say something to me a few weeks ago, but I mean, I don't think Timber has a problem." Bob admitted. "I think she's just picky. She's really skinny, but it's not like she's lost dramatic weight that I can tell. She still looks relatively healthy, you know? She's not like, a fifty-pound skeleton."
"She seriously looks like she's no more than eighty pounds." Ben put in his two cents.
"Oh, no she doesn't." Bob shook his head. "She's fine. She's just a late bloomer. It happens." he clarified.
"Yeah. Just look at you, Ben." Clint joked.
Ben narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Yeah, when you see my dick, you'll know that I bloomed just in time." He said salaciously.
"Some people are meant to be skinny." Bob continued. "Look at us. The four of us are pretty thin... I think, at least. Clint especially. He can eat so much chocolate and ice cream and still be a twig. And you too Ben. Plus, I've seen little-kid pictures of Timber and she was bony as hell. I think she's just a bony person. Just leave her alone. She's fine. If she had a problem, or whatever, I'd know about it." Bob stated, shaking his head.
"Hey, I don't know anything about blooming and what-not. I'm just saying what Jen told me." Ben surrendered. "But bottom line is: never talk about a chick's weight to her face. Big or small, they get pissed."
* * *
He was on the rampage. He was a juggernaut, tearing a path of self destruction through town, searching for that one thing that he believed would make it all okay, but in actuality only made matters worse. He was searching for sex. The taste of Jeanine, the way her skin felt equally as womanly, but somehow different than Angela's lead him to believe that the more sex he layered upon Angela's memory, the more and more he was with other women who smelled and tasted and felt different, the more and more he would forget and ultimately the less and less it would hurt. All he wanted was something to make it all go away and the placebo of sex seemed like a good idea at the time.
So he flung himself head-first down the rabbit hole.
Girls, girls, girls. He had been here before. The different qualities of each one, the frequency at which he experienced these differences; comparing and contrasting them to the ones still lingering in his memory. That was who The Old Scott Moffatt was. The Old Scott Moffatt was with a different girl each venue, not registering names and sometimes not even faces, his memories regurgitated to him through his recollection of physical feeling. All that had changed once he met Angela. With Angela, he had desperately tried to memorize everything about her, finding it frustrating to do so as it is humanly impossible.
But he wasn't with Angela anymore.
The grating of the overturned crate dug painful imprints on his bare backside. It was set against the grimy wall in the backroom of the Hagen Daaz uptown, the only Hagen Daaz Scott knew to exist in Calgary, for that matter. He hadn't even meant to stumble into the ice cream parlor that afternoon, it was a good few miles from his suburban home, but he somehow found himself standing in front of the counter ordering a vanilla cone a short while after leaving Jeanine's house.
She stood on the other side of the counter in the uniform consisting of a maroon shirt and khaki pants that did nothing for her figure. But she stirred his attraction, though he was sure that a German Sheppard could have walked past and stirred his attraction just the same. Her eyes were artificially violet and her dark hair was tied up securely on the back of her neck; her nametag read, "Bailey." Scott recalled living next to an old couple when in his Nashville home, and their large, friendly, golden retriever's name was Bailey. He smirked at the thought.
It had been over a year since he had last used his charm. He hadn't needed The Old Scott Moffatt's charms, mainly for the reason that he didn't need to work so hard to attract girls. He had a girl, and the charm he used on her was far different from the charm necessary for his previous recreational purposes. He suddenly feared he had forgotten how he used to do it, he had forgotten how to play his own game, how to tease and flirt and lick his lips in a way that wouldn't remind him of Angela. But, looking Bailey up and down, deciding that he would not leave Hagen Daaz without tasting her neck, he decided that it was time to remember. Lucky for him, some things never died.
The Scott Moffatt Charm had never failed him in the past and it would continue to work for him, not minding over twelve months of neglect. It was the Scott Moffatt Charm that had gotten him so many fun times in the past and it was the Scott Moffatt Charm that landed him in the back room of Hagen Daaz, sitting on an overturned crate and ravenously licking vanilla ice cream off of Bailey chest as she fucked him hard, slamming his backside harder down against the crate and causing the grating to nearly pierce his skin.
He still wore his tee shirt, though only around his neck and on one arm, and his pants were pooled around his hairy ankles. She, on the other hand, was almost completely nude. Her shirt had been tossed somewhere on the other side of the big shelf that blocked them from initial view of anyone entering the back room. Her pants must have been flung somewhere with it because when he opened his eyes to look over her shoulder, he didn't see them in the small room anywhere. The only piece of clothing belonging to her that he could detect were her panties, pulled aside underneath for him, and her bra, still strapped on her body, though the cups had been tugged down to expose her nicely shaped breasts which he refused to touch.
The only sound in the room was her soft breathing, raspy in his ear, and his fervent grunts as he rammed her harder onto him. He was apathetic about the whole situation, merely observing her as she seemed to be deriving pleasure from him. The bottom of the crate began to scrape the cement floor in short, raw scratches as Bailey pushed against his faster, moaning thirstily in his ear. She planted her hands on the cold wall behind his shoulders, rocking her hips harder with more precision, moving one hand down to rub her clit.
"Ugnh..." she shuddered, returning her hand to the wall and flipping her head backwards.
Her back arched and he placed his hand low on her spine to keep her from falling backwards off his lap. As she flicked her head in a full circle, eventually returning to look into his face with the utmost determination, her hair whipped around, the long tendrils stroking over his cheeks and forehead. Her hair smelled like vanilla, something completely not-Angela. Just the notion made him smile and allowed him to push all reservations out of his mind and enjoy what he was doing.
He began to feel it, burning in his lower stomach, the fire produced only strengthening with time. He moved her faster and harder and harder and faster, trying to get a full sensation because at that moment, all he could feel was numb. She seemed to like his man-handling, whipping her head more as she rose and fell on his pulsating cock, fondling her own nipples, her lips parted with silenced moans escaping.
"Ugnhh... ohhhh..." she whispered, dropping her head back and gently rubbing her palms over her fully erect nipples. "Ugnhh... yes..." her mouth dropped open in a silent scream and she shuddered again, biting her lip in passion.
He came shortly after, thumping his head back onto the wall and sighing with satisfaction.
Once he plunged forth, down the rabbit hole, he knew he could not just turn back.
* * *
"So... what are you going to do?" he asked, watching her enter the room, a fluffy pink terry-cloth towel cinched around her chest.
Her skin was still warm and moist from the shower, her hair beginning to air-dry and pieces flipping up as her waves started to take shape. Jeanine glanced up at him cautiously, her head remaining bowed. "What do you mean?" she asked in a low mumble, tugging open the drawers of her armoire.
"I mean... about Scott." Dave elaborated, closing the May issue of Cosmopolitan he had been reading while she was in the bath. He kept his tone soft and inviting, trying to be as careful as possible.
Jeanine turned her back on him, sifting through the drawer and clumping a few pieces of white cloth in her hands that he assumed to be her underwear. "What do you mean?" she asked, still pretending to be disinterested.
"Are you going to... report it?" Dave asked carefully, ambivalent about the whole issue.
Jeanine turned to face him, an eyebrow perked. "What?" she asked in blatant surprise.
Dave was surprised himself by her sudden incredulousness. He didn't think there was anything wrong with his query, but was suddenly very hesitant about repeating himself. "Well... are you?" he asked.
Jeanine shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "Dave." She said, opening them. "It wasn't rape."
Dave involuntarily looked confused by her admission. "Wha---"
"It was consensual." Jeanine explained, still looking at him from across the room.
Dave diverted his eyes from her face, trying not to see hurt but afraid he looked so anyhow. "Oh." Was all he managed.
Jeanine closed her eyes again, wincing at her lack of tact. Things were different now. She approached, sitting down on the bed next to him and placing her underwear behind her as she focused on making eye contact. "I said that wrong." She said softly, touching his hands.
Her bed was pushed up against the side wall and he sat all the way back on it, leaning against this wall with his legs stretched out and over the side. His arms were spread on either side of his body, hands rested on the soft purple of the duvet. His brown eyes searched the cotton fabric for imaginary flaws, trying to distract himself from the matter at hand. He had been too late. Just when he told her he loved her she went and voluntarily had sex with Scott. She had wanted to have sex with Scott.
"Dave..." Jeanine started softly, trying to find the words to explain. "He manipulated me. I thought you had had sex with Angela and he convinced me that that was the only way to pay you back." She admitted. "But... God..." she sighed, shaking her head at the memory and trying not to cry. "I shouldn't have because... he didn't care about me. He doesn't care about anyone. It was horrible Dave. I--- it was so horrible." She whispered, scooting back so she sat beside him. She leaned her wet head against the wall and closed her eyes as the tears slipped down her cheeks. Regret was the worst feeling that could plague anyone and she now felt the full effects.
She had made so many mistakes already, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back; this was the one that finally broke her.
Her hand lay mere centimeters from his. Sighing heavily, he gently moved his pinky on his otherwise idle right hand, gently grazing it over hers. "It's okay Jeanine." He said, realizing that the past was already gone and if he wanted any kind of relationship with her he'd have to forget it. "It's alright, I'm here now Jeanine. I won't ever hurt you, I promise. I love you too much. Just give me a chance Jeanine and I'll make you see that you can trust me."
She opened her eyes and turned to him. He looked her deep in the eye wearing a very serious expression on his face. It was almost as if he had read her mind, reading her fears and promising to chase them away.
"Just give me a chance." He softly pleaded, moving his hand completely and placing it over hers so their fingers alternated. "I love you."
"I love you too Dave."
That was the first time she had acknowledged the fact that he had confessed his love to her.
Dave leaned in, using his other hand to traced her jaw, and touched his lips on hers, closing his eyes contently. Jeanine's own eyes fluttered shut as she allowed him to kiss her softly, passionately, meaningfully. She believed him.
She had always been in search of a white knight, someone to rescue her, to suddenly come into her life and turn things around. She believed that that was how things worked, that that was the secret to romance and Happily Ever After. She was one of the last few belonging to the species that still believed in chivalry's existence. No matter how many times she cried, or how hard she did so, she believed that it had to happen sometime because life was meant to consist of those few great moments where it all suddenly seemed worth while. Years went by with nothing but disappointment. She could kiss a thousands different boys and men who promised to give her the world and still feel empty and oppressed and trapped. There were times when she was desperate, feeling as if she'd be held captive in the proverbial dungeon at the top of a high stone tower forever... But that day, Dave had ridden up on his white horse...
Rescuing her.
* * *
Bob could still hear Ben and Clint critiquing music videos over nachos and homemade pizza in the living room after he sneaked away into the office to call his best friend. He settled upon the large grey desk, not bothering to turn on a light, as the sun was still bright in the sky and filled the room with dazzling light that made everything look refreshingly clean. He impatiently listened to the ring-tones, waiting for her to pick up the phone.
"Hello?" Timber answered, already seeming to know who it was.
"Hello," Bob said lowly. "This is one-eight-hundred-beat-your-meat. We're calling to confirm your order for three super sized dildos."
Timber chuckled heartily and he could imagine her head tipped back, her molars exposed as she guffawed openly. He smiled.
"Well it's about time. I ordered those about three weeks ago. Are the nipple clamps still included free?" she played along and he knew she wasn't mad anymore.
It was his turn to laugh and he did just that. "Timber, Timber, Timber..." he shook his head. "Go out with me."
"What?!" she exclaimed, clearly having been caught by surprise.
"Go out with me." Bob repeated. "Like on a date. It'll be fun."
Timber laughed again. "But sir, I thought you were spoken for." She role-played, playing the shocked but enticed younger woman.
"What the misses don't know won't hurt her." Bob responded heartily, taking the part of Mr. Big.
"You're a baaaaad, baaaad man." Timber said with breathless drama. "And I like it."
Bob chortled at her imitation. "So what do ya say?"
"Okay." She said, making it obvious that she had shrugged along with her reply.
"Good."
"Alrighty."
"Pick you up at seven."
"Um... okay... where are we going?" Timber asked. "Or is it like... top secret or something."
Bob grinned, tracing his fingers over the edge of the desk. "It is top secret." He informed her.
"Well... then... what should I wear?" she asked.
"Wear somethin' sssssexy." He teased, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as his hands both traced the desk's edge.
Timber giggled. "Or how about I just go naked."
"That's not until the end of the date." Bob smirked suggestively.
Timber laughed again. "You ARE a baaaad baaaad man."
"Officer I SWEAR. She never told me her age!"
Timber was sent into hysterics at his comment.
"Wear a skirt." He suggested.
"Why?" she asked curiously.
"Easy access." He informed her. "No, I'm kidding. I dunno. You never wear skirts."
"I don't do I." Timber agreed with him. "What are you wearing?" she asked.
"Umm..." Bob hummed, his eyes roaming upwards. "I dunno."
"Well are you wearing like jeans and a tee shirt, khakis and a polo, or black pants and a button-down?" she grilled him.
"Probably black pants and a button down. Wow. I will wear that. Thanks Tim!" he grinned, having an epiphany.
"Okay. Well that helps. See?" she informed him. "Are you seriously wearing that?" she asked him skeptically.
"Yeah... um... do you ask ALL your dates this?" he asked carefully.
Timber just snorted a laugh. "Well, I don't want to be under or overdressed. You know?" she rationalized.
"Good point." He agreed. "Yeah. I'll wear black pants and a button down. So you just wear that too. In fact, that'd be funny if you DID wear that." He mused.
Timber just laughed at how adorable he could be. "You know how I get annoyingly curious, where are we going?" She asked.
"Sleezy motel." He replied, straight faced. "No, I'm kidding." He chuckled.
"Damn." She giggled.
He laughed harder at her comment. "We're going to have a candle-lit dinner at that place on the pier." He replied gallantly. "You know... the place right ass-on the pier. It's new, but according to a very reliable source it is very cool. This is our first date Timber... it has to be super-special. What will we tell our grandkids?"
She giggled again, rendered bashful.
"So I'll pick you up at seven sharp." He continued, accepting her lack of verbal response.
"Okay." Timber replied.
"Bye Timmy."
"Bob-bye."
Bob chuckled as he replaced the phone on the cradle.
* * *