When the movie ends, Xavier and Meg dig into the dessert, feeding each other bites of the cheesecake. When she asks Xavier to choose another movie, he obliges, looking through the full list. First he thinks about watching a kids' movie because, let's face it, everyone loves a good animated kids' flick. But Meg tenses slightly next to him, and he wonders if perhaps she's the one adult in the world who doesn't like movies for children.

Please not that one, Meg thinks. She knows all of the words by heart as Titus has been watching it nonstop since it came out on video. When Xavier chooses a romance instead, she's stunned into silence.

"Um...." he hesitantly speaks as the opening credits start, "You can say no, but.....um.....would it be okay if we watched this one from the bed?" He bites his lips, "It's just that I really want to be curled up next to you."

How can she refuse such a sweet offer? Agreeing, she waits until he's made himself comfortable, propping up so he can see the screen. Then she climbs in next to him, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders. She twists sideways, placing one hand on his chest and carefully setting her left leg on top of his.

They watch the first hour or so of the movie, and Xavier starts to feel uncomfortable about the level of sexual nuances in the movie. Maybe he should have picked a drama. Meg is so innocent.

But when Meg twists further on the bed so that she can look up at him, he is acutely aware of how kissable she is. Bending over her, he captures her lips once more, and this time, she opens without hesitation, inviting him to sweep his tongue inside. Holy hell. He cannot believe that she's letting him do this.

Xavier is tentative about taking advantage of her, but then she sucks his tongue into her mouth as she slides her hand under his shirt to his belly, her skin heating his rapidly. And he wants more. So much more. It surprises him then when she tries to guide his hand to her boob, and he's the one who resists. Yes, he wants her. Damn. So very much, and he's got the hard-on to prove it. But not like this. Not in a hotel room in New York City. It feels cheap and not worthy of his sweet Meg.

Gentling the kiss, he pulls her hand from under his shirt, setting both of her hands on her own stomach. When she opens her eyes, blinking slowly, she seems dazed.

"Is something wrong, X?" she asks, worried that he's not interested in her the same way.

"Nope," he sucks her lower lip between his, kissing her once more, turning to tower over her as he deepens the kiss. When he comes up for air this time, he lies back on the bed, tucking Meg into his side again. "Don't misunderstand, Meg-pie. I want you. But not in a hotel room."

============

I hold my breath, worried that she will disagree and want to continue our current fuck buddy arrangement. The silence hurts my ears as I strain to hear her voice. Which doesn't come for a lifetime. So I start counting in my head backwards from 100 by 3s. 100, 97, 94, 91. It's a trick I learned to keep my brain occupied when I'm anxious.

It isn't until I get to 76 that she finally speaks, and I do my best to maintain a relaxed body posture so she doesn't know how anxious I am about her answer. "I think...." she pauses, and I return to my exercise. 76, 73, 70, 67, 64. "It makes sense."

And I expel the breath I've been unknowingly holding. "So....," I start to speak, and she looks at me curiously.

"Yes?"

"To confirm -- you're staying with me tonight?"

Her laughter bubbles up. "I did agree to that, so yes." But then her face clouds up. "Um, tell me you have a washer and dryer. Please?"

Now it's my turn to giggle as I pull her close, unwilling to let her away from my side for even one moment. "Um....may I have my phone back now?"

Pulling away from me, she sits up, mock anger in her pose, "You're still going to try to get me a hotel?!" It's a joke, and I am glad we both find it funny.

"Nope," I reply. "Planning to order some food so it will maybe be there when we arrive."

"Oooh...Now you're talking. Where are we ordering from?" She leans over me, trying to get a look at the phone.

"There's a place just down the road that has comfort food. What do you want?" I am trying to pull up their menu, but she doesn't even delay with her response.

"Cheeseburger, medium, extra cheese, extra fatty, with bacon. None of that healthy stuff. No onions, lettuce, or tomatoes. And fries. A lot of fries. With fry sauce." Her order is rapid, and I am appalled at the number of calories.

But then I remember what kind of day she's had, so I call Estancia 460 and order two of those. The restaurant says they're backed up and that delivery will arrive in no more than 90 minutes.

"Ninety minutes?! Fuck," she complains.

"You didn't eat on the plane!" I exclaim, "You must be starving." I'd forgotten that she'd slept through our meal on the flight. Come to think of it, the only thing she'd eaten today was the crustless quiche from this morning. "The food will be worth it when it arrives. I promise."

Shortly thereafter we arrive at my place in Tribeca. I direct the driver into the underground parking structure where a valet opens the vehicle door for us. The doorman nods as we walk past to the lift. I'm carrying both of our bags, and when we arrive at my apartment on the 3rd floor, she merely stands in the foyer, unsure what to do. As am I. Honestly, I never have guests over. I'm always the one who goes to their homes. Mum and Gems have stayed over, as has Jeff. But when I say it's my private haven, I mean it. The whole place is designed for my comfort.

But now I'm thinking of her comfort. "Um....can I just throw everything in the washing machine?" I ask, holding up her bag with its lotion-covered clothes as I walk towards the utility room.

"Yessssss," she follows behind me, looking at the great room on the opposite side of the foyer before we step into the utility room.

"It will be awhile before dinner is here," I remind her, "And you've had a shit day. Would you care for a bath?"

Her eyes widen, and I can tell the idea is appealing. "Could I? Cause that would be heaven, Harry."

"Why don't you throw all of your clothes in the wash? I'll find you something to wear when you get out of the tub. There's a dressing gown on the back of the door there. Let me start the water for you," and as much as I want to stay and help her undress, I restrain myself and do what I said I would do.

Making my way to the master bath, I turn on the water, making sure it gets warm before I start filling the tub. Tossing in one of my favorite bath bombs (it makes the water pink, and I can't help but squeal with glee when it does), I decide to light a few of my scented candles for her. She deserves a break after today. With the scent of pomegranate drifting through the room, I reach for the remote for the sound system, flipping on Van Morrison's "Crazy Love" just as she enters, wrapped in my dressing gown.

She looks cozy and cuddly and, dammit, fuckable. My intentions tonight are honorable, I swear. The plan is to keep my hands off her.

Looking around, Minnie sucks in a breath, and I'm pleased at the atmosphere I've created for her.

"I'll, uh, I'll let you be now," I murmur, stepping forward to pass her on my way out of the room.

She places her hand on my arm as I approach her. "Stay," she whispers, reaching for the ties and loosening the edges of the dressing gown. Speechless, I watch the cloth make its way to the floor, skimming her curves, reminding me how we'd awakened this morning.

She dips one foot into the water before stepping completely in. Her hands on either side, she sinks into the pink water, disappearing while my mouth hangs open. She looks so amazing, her body toned. I observe her as she tilts her head, resting against the back of the tub. Van stops singing, and as the strains of "You Send Me" by Sam Cooke come on, she lazily opens her eyes to fix them on me, standing near the door. I'm torn. She's invited me to stay, but I really should let her have the space and time to herself.

"Do you need help, Harry?" Her voice is husky, and it makes me shiver.

"With what, Minnie?" I'm confused. Do I need help? Yes. Of course I do. The woman is making me crazy. Call the authorities.

Rolling her eyes, she sighs, "Getting undressed. Stripping."

Oh. She truly intends for me to not only stay, but to climb in with her. Carefully, I yank my t-shirt over my head, aware that she's watching my striptease. Kicking off my shoes, I unbutton and unzip my trousers, allowing them to slide down my legs, leaving me in only my pants and my socks. The socks? Well, there's no sexy way to remove them, so I just bend down and do it. But when I stand back up, I capture her gaze with mine as I hook my thumbs into my waistband, shimmying the cloth down my hips slowly while I watch her lick her lips.

My cock springs free, and is fully awake, which is both promising and annoying. Once I'm standing there naked, I inquire with my look as to where she would like me. Scooting forward, she indicates that I should climb in behind her, and I gingerly do. Once I'm seated (with minimal splashing I might brag!), she nestles back into me. My legs are wrapped around her, and it's the most comfortable I've been in ages.

Reaching for the sponge on the side, I add some of my favorite body gel. It's got the amazing scent of fig. She's pinned her hair up, so I start at her shoulders, rubbing the foaming gel over her skin and gently down her arms. She sighs, her head lolling on my shoulder as I trade hands to wash her other arm. The trailing of my fingers over her breasts is not meant to arouse, but rather to cleanse. Minnie squirms anyway. I tap her right thigh with the intention of her lifting it out of the water, and I wash away the ugliness of the day as Elvis begins singing "Can't Help Falling in Love".

I live for you. I long for you.

Rinsing the sponge, I squeeze the pink water from it over her body, removing the last traces of soap. She's like putty in my arms now, and I can't resist. Putting the sponge away, I allow my fingers to trail up and down her thighs. The sigh that escapes her makes me happy because I know that she's fully relaxed. Gently, I allow my hands to dip to her core, my fingertips just skimming over her entrance before skirting away to her thighs again.

She releases a moan, sliding her legs further apart, wrapping them on the outside of my thighs, and I reach deeper, teasing her bud from side to side, occasionally immersing a finger inside her. The pace of the music is perfect for the pace of my hands over her button, and I'm relieved when Close the Door by Teddy Pendergrass starts playing next because it maintains the slow movements of my nimble fingers. Minnie is squirming more, and she sighs.

"Fuck, Harry. That feels so good."

"I'm glad, Minnie. Truly."

The clenching starts towards the middle of Teddy's song, and I encourage her, "Let go, Minnie," I whisper in her ear, pressing my lips there.

Her orgasm is subtle and sweet, and I'm honored I could give it to her. Turning her head to me, she captures my lips with hers. "Thank you, Harry." Our mouths meld deeper, and I only permit my tongue to coax and soothe rather than wind her up again. When she comes down completely, she starts to turn in the tub.

"Time to take care of you," she says.

"Nope," I resist her hands, covering my bits to keep them from her. "This was all about you. Let's get dressed before dinner gets here."

Standing, I help her rise from the cooling water before grabbing a towel. While she stands in front of me, shivering, I use the towel to rub her down tenderly, starting at her feet and ending at her shoulders where I wrap the towel around her. With a second towel, I briskly dry myself before leading her to my closet. From the drawers, I take out two pairs of boxer briefs, pulling on my own before I kneel before her, encouraging her to step into the leg holes so I can pull them up around her waist.

With my favorite body oil, I spray her skin, massaging in the oil while she patiently stands in front of me. It's not sexual, so get your mind out of the gutter. Next, I grab two pairs of sweatpants, again yanking my own on before kneeling in front of her, then helping her tie them around her waist.

"Harry...." she runs her hand over my cheek, pressing a kiss to the side of my mouth, "You have needs too, and you're being entirely too solicitous to me. You've been forgiven."

Wrapping my arm around her back, I pull her to me, kissing her deeply before setting her away from me. "I am fine. This isn't me groveling. This is me showing you how I feel about having you in my life."

Without paying any attention, I swipe two t-shirts off the shelf, hauling one on for myself, which turns out to be a Fleetwood Mac tour shirt. Inviting her to lift her arms, I slip the second one, a Britney Spears' one, over her head. The clothes fit perfectly.

The music on the house speakers switches to 'How Can You Mend a Broken Heart' by Al Green, and I grab socks, pointing to the bench for her to sit. I slip the coverings over her feet, pressing kisses to her calves, causing her to giggle. Together, we move her wet clothes to the dryer.

Gesturing to the liquor cart, I ask what she would like. She wanders over to the gas fireplace, flipping the switch, and the flames spring to life, already heating up the chilled room.

"I'll take whiskey. Neat," her gravelly voice resonates through the room.

The house phone rings, which likely means the doorman has a delivery for me since that's what we're expecting. Leaving her in the great room, I pop down the elevator to grab our food. When I return, she's foregone the dining table, planting herself instead on the couch, her feet on the coffee table as she flips through the channels on the television.

It's a Wednesday night in early February, and she has found the movie channels. Some old musical is playing, and I smile as I recognise My Fair Lady. Luckily the restaurant included plenty of napkins as the juices drip from her chin when she digs into the burger, sipping her whiskey in between bites.

For whatever reason, I am blissfully happy. The burger, the movie, the fire, the clothes, the woman. I've never been so glad to have someone invade my space before.