Marc/Dustin: Dating Games

You could be forgiven for thinking that my new "relationship" with "Dakota" consisted of nothing but sex. After all, the first few months we knew each other almost entirely took place in Ryan's bed. She's made no secret of her willingness to explore that side. Hell, we share a mattress today, which does get rather "cozy."

The morning after the events of my last post, I woke up to find her gazing at me with those pretty blue eyes. Given the late night I'd had, it was not my usual early start. 

When she noticed I was awake, she purred, "Tell me I wasn't dreaming last night."

"Depends," I said in a low tone, "What do you think happened?"

"I think you asked me to be your girlfriend," she said as she traced a line up my torso with her finger.

"I guess I did," I said with a half-smile. "I mean, I think what I said was, it's too much work to fake it as much as we have been, so we might as well try dating."

"You're such a romantic, it gets me wet," she snarked.

She leaned in and kissed me. That became a full-on make out session, bodies intertwined, hands searching one another.

She could tell my body was getting "revved up," but put the brakes on.

"I do want this, but I want something else, first," she said.

"What's that?" I asked, kissing her neck.

"A date."

I reared back, somewhat surprised. "Pardon?"

"I haven't dated in so long," she said. "The passion went out of my and Mary's relationship, and then with Ryan -- I mean, you -- it was pretty much all physical."

"I recall," I said, blushing as I remember some of the things we were into during our fling.

"I'm a lady," she said, "And I want to be treated as such. I'd like to be romanced at least a little bit."

"Oh, you're a lady?" I teased, picking her lips with mine, "Is that why your hand is on my crotch?"

"I didn't specify what kind of lady," she snickered, then removed her hand. "I want to know that this chemistry is real, before our first time."

"And what if it's not real?" I asked, "What if we find out we actually have nothing to say to each other and there's no spark?"

"Then I guess the sex will just be meaningless," she shrugged.

Because we were both eager to go through with it, we scheduled the date for the following night. I booked us a table at what appeared to be the finest restaurant in town. I wore Dustin's nicest shirt with a tie. "Dakota" shooed me out of the bedroom while she prepared, and came down in a clingy low-cut dress with black pantyhose, and makeup courtesy of Charly.

When the expression on my face said it all -- "wow" -- she leaned in and pulled me down to whisper in my ear.

"I wish you knew how hot I feel looking like this," she said. "So you'd better appreciate it."

"You look beautiful," I told her honestly, then produced a bouquet I had bought for the night, causing her to go wide-eyed and get a little choked up.

"Nobody's ever bought me flowers before... I... didn't expect to feel this way about them!" Then she paused for a moment, "Um, do I have to hold them all night?"

"We'll leave them here, and find a vase for them later," I reasoned.

We drove to the restaurant and were seated by the hostess. As we perused the menus, she mused, "How much steak do you think Dakota can eat? I'm famished, but I don't want to feel... full."

"Maybe try the fish or the chicken," I shrugged, "Looks like they do the salmon with a white wine sauce, that sounds pretty good."

"I've never liked fish," she said.

"Maybe Dakota does."

She contemplated that. "That's a pretty big gamble to take. What are you getting?"

"Steak, I think."

"Maybe I'll have a few bites of yours."

"Wow, didn't realize we were already married," I snickered. She twisted her mouth to convey annoyance and, I think, hold back her own laugh.

We ordered drinks -- I a beer, she an Old Fashioned, which raised my eyebrow. Not really a girly drink, but nobody said she had to be girly, I guess.

"What do kids talk about on first dates nowadays?"

"You're asking me?" I chuckled, "I probably haven't been out on a date in as long as you."

"They probably talk about apps. Social media. Viral videos. Did you see the one with that lady who does the voice of her dog and yadda-yadda... it's all the girls in the house talk about. What do the guys talk about?"

"They just play video games. Sports. Basketball, mostly, football a little bit."

"Sounds like a regular Algonquin Round Table," she said. "Were we that dull when we were young?"

"Probably," I shrugged, "When I was 23 the first time, I was just starting law school, so the last thing I wanted was serious philosophical conversations on my own time."

"When I was 23... oh, God, I don't want to say it, it will just remind you how old I am."

"Spill it, girl," I said with a smirk.

"I was working on the Dukakis campaign," she said in a low, embarrassed voice. "Local outreach."

"Ouch. How'd that go."

"He won New York," she shrugged self-effacingly.

"Well, if you want a political debate, there's always PJ..." I said with a snicker. I actually would give our housemates a lot of credit for their political convictions, but "Dakota" is prone to ranting about just how far their ideals stretch, as if that's a bad thing, with PJ as a particular subject of her ire. "I think you just don't like them because they challenge you." She sneered slightly.

"There's more to it than that," she grumbled. "It's all so performative to me... they'll see, when you get older, you get more conservative."

"I think that was more true when getting older meant getting more money," I snorted, "Kids their age don't have as much hope for upward mobility as you did. Or even me, before, you know, life set in."

That seemed to quiet the normally combative Dakota. Luckily at this point, the server arrived. Dakota ordered veal parmesan, and I ordered the salmon, causing Dakota to express some dismay.

"I thought you were having the steak!"

"The salmon sounded good."

"Well, now what am I supposed to do if I want some?"

"Try my salmon," I shrugged.

"Any luck finding a job?" I asked casually.

"What do you think? The job market here is dick-all. If I could, I'd move to the city and try my luck there."

"Right, so you could spend triple the amount on an apartment and still not find a job."

"You know, if my rich boyfriend wanted to move with me..."

"I'm not rich, and you don't want to be a sugar-baby," I said.

"Maybe not, but money is freedom," she said. "We've got eight or nine months before we have to vacate these lives, why are we spending it in cramped quarters with my ex? We could travel, live a life of luxury."

"Because one, you're vastly overestimating my resources, and two, I don't think I want to live a fantasy. I want to live something approaching a real life, with genuine struggles."

"You're a freakin' weirdo, Dustin," she said, and for a moment I blanched remembering that we were supposed to call each other by our ostensible names at all times now.

"What did you think was going to happen when you went to the Inn on purpose? You'd wind up as some pretty girl who never had to work a day in her life?"

"One can dream," she sighed wistfully, then sat back and fingered the neckline of her dress, pouting in a strange burlesque of sexiness.

"You're playing," I snorted, not taking the bait, "You don't want to be a kept woman. It's not in your nature."

"It suited Mary fine," she snorted bitterly.

Soon, our food arrived. Dakota regarded her plate with what could only described as lustful eyes. "Do you know how excited I am about this? Once upon a time, this much red sauce would have kept me all night with heartburn."

"Cheers to that," I said, asking our server for another beer.

Once the server had left, Dakota commented, "Did you see how low her top was buttoned?"

"I may have," I said, non-committal.

"I mean, we get it, you've got great boobs. This is supposed to be a respectable establishment."

"I didn't think she was that bad," I said.

"They were in my face," she said, cutting up her meat. "What's that term, motor-boating? I was practically doing that. Maybe that's what I need to do to get a job at a place like this, show the goods.. what little I have."

I said nothing.

"This is when you tell me my body is great," she said.

"Your body is spectacular," I told her. "You're beautiful, Dakota."

"Thank you," she smiled. I wondered, privately, how much 'pride' we should take in a body that was given to us randomly, but then I thought that the same could be said about our genetics in the first place.

Apropos of nothing, she took a forkful of salmon off my plate and ate it.

"Fuck me, that is good." Then she added with a wink, "I wonder what else I like more as Dakota than I did as John."

It wasn't the weirdest or worst dinner date I've ever had, but it certainly wasn't as light or carefree as most 23-year-olds are on their first dates.

The next stop was a surprise that caused Dakota to grumble, "You've got to be kidding me." It was glow-in-the-dark mini-golf. "Do I look twelve? Don't answer that."

As John, she was an avid golfer, so I suspect she found the choice bitterly funny. I explained that a lot of the recreational activities in this town -- clubs and bars -- involve mingling with fellow twentysomethings, at least this would give us a bit of privacy as we made our way through between other groups.

When Dakota's first few shots went wild, she huffed, "I'm used to doing this a little differently," but eventually she seemed to get the hang of it with Dakota's arms. 

Heavy conversation took a backseat to trash-talk and goofing off as I got to see John's true Dakota side, laughing and playing as we both tried to distract each other by acting a fool during the other's shots.

After that, I asked if she wanted to go to a bar, and she said, "Why bother? We have booze at home, and a bed."

"Sleepy?"

"Not yet."

It wasn't some big sweeping romantic moment. We just got to the bedroom and started kissing, picking up steam, hands sweeping over each other wherever they wanted to. "Your abs, your abs!" she squealed.

"You wouldn't believe how many sit-ups I have to do to maintain them," I grunted.

"They're worth it," she cooed, "The core strength is going to come in handy."

She made me unzip her dress.

"Tell me I'm hot," she said as I kissed her neck.

"You're hot."

"How, specifically."

"Your thin little body, your beautiful face, your hair, your smile..."

"My little tits..."

"Yes, they're great," I said, fondling them and helping her out of her bra.

"Tell me you want me,"

"I want you," I said.

"Tell me you need me," she said.

"I need you," I answered.

she pulled me backward onto the bed, and I hovered over her. She guided my hand to her panties and help her pull them down. "Do it. Do it!" she urged.

And, well... I did.

We were safe, I got some protection on, and that only momentarily dampened the momentum. My big body, her little one, so light and easy to play with. Her screams of delight, chanting "Yes! Yes! Yes!" at the top of her lungs, then, F--k me, f--k me, f--k me!" heedlessly, all of which spurred me on.

I tried to pace myself but it was pretty spirited. Afterwards, we curled up under the blankets.

"Are you going to be ready to go again soon?" she asked, running her hand up and down my chest.

"If this was a few years ago, then no," I chortled, "But today, who knows... probably, if I remember being a 23-year-old clearly enough."

"Good," she said.

"Was it at least worth the wait?" I asked.

"Oh my God, yes," she said. "You've got to try this sometime."

...

-Marc/Dustin