Building Friction (Part 23)

"So, he hasn't been around anymore?" It was Saturday and we were back in our normal spots, sitting in Steph's backyard and kicking back. I was asking about whether Geoff had continued to grace the house with his presence.

"Nope. I guess Matt knocked some sense into him." Steph took another swig off her bottle of beer and then went to light another cigarette. It had been a really hot day and most of us couldn't manage physical activity beyond lifting a hand to our mouths. "Why do you care though? I thought you were over all of that."

"I am, I just don't want you to still be tortured with it." I took a long drag from my smoke and looked in through the sliding glass doors that lead to the house. Matt was inside, engaged in an intense game of foosball, Joshua playing as his partner. The two had become quick friends. Joshua always did like a person who had physical might behind them. From the looks of it, they were kicking the shit out of Billy and Ken, a couple of other friends.

"You ever wonder what it would be like to have a quiet night at home?" I joked, turning back towards Steph.

"That's what the weekdays are for!" She laughed and held her drink out. "Were you picking up Sean tomorrow? It feels dead without him playing."

"Nah, Kelly's got that shift. I dropped him off when he left. He's only written me one e-mail since he left. I'm beginning to think he's pissed at me about something." I sighed and threw my cigarette to the ground.

"You know Sean. It's hard to tell what he's thinking sometimes. Like most men, I suppose," Lilly looked drowsy, leaning back in her chair.

"Ain't that the truth," Malory chimed in. "Things would be so much easier if they could just talk to us from time to time. I get so sick of playing the fucking guessing game."

"Hey, now!" I interjected. "The very same thing could be said about women. Sure, I don't get men and men don't get me, but it's a lack of communication on BOTH sides. Come on! How many times has a guy done something to you that pissed you off and you didn't say anything about it, but it never left your mind? Kind of like you created some mental folder and were back logging everything that they had done and then you blew up at them later?"

"Well, if guys weren't always calling us nags for bringing shit up when we were initially pissed about something, maybe we would speak up more!" Malory reached for another beer. "I hate the bullshit of trying to be the nice girlfriend and not piss someone off. Keeping the peace sucks."

"She's right. Every time that I try and bring up something to Casey, something small, and I say it nice, he acts like he's so fucking put out!" Lilly was suddenly sitting forward. "It's like, HELLO! I was trying to do it the nice way, but if you really wanna have it go down like that, I'll show you what a bitch I can be!"

The circle rang with laughter. "We've all been there," Malory said.

"Yeah. You don't even have to be there with a guy. It's a relationship thing. We want to stay together, so we have to make compromises. But then we find out that we make compromises that we're not all that comfortable with making. Then we're locked into them. That's the main problem." Steph leaned forward and pulled my pack of cigarettes from my hand. "How the hell do you know that what you're sacrificing you're not going to be sorry about later?"

"Back tracking is a bitch," Lilly began. "Having to hear 'But you were OK with it in the beginning!' is so lame. Why are we villains when we want to change our minds?"

"Who says we're villains?" I started.

"THEY DO!" The group hollered at me in unison. Steph picked it up after that. "You're a bitch if you speak your mind and don't tolerate shit from the get go. You're a bitch if you decide that you're not OK with something and want to make modifications. You're a bitch when they say that they want to get a straight answer out of you and then when you give it to them, they discover that you weren't the perfect princess that they thought you were all along. If that's not a villain, I don't know what is."

"But the same can be said about us!" I argued. "How many times do we start off in a relationship thinking that no matter what a guy wears, he looks good in it, only to turn around and be pissed when he wants to go out in jeans and a t-shirt?"

"Because some places that's not acceptable!" Malory defended.

"Well, not to a wedding, sure, but guys know that much. Damn, they're not complete Neaderthals. I'm talking about when you have a casual date. What's the point in forcing him to dress up? You've already caught him, he's already yours. It's not like guys wander, no matter what Cosmo might lead you to believe. They like to know that there is a steady source of pussy available to them. Granted, that means that they will go back and change what they're wearing if you tell them to, but it also means that the reason why they're not dressing up is they're not trying to catch anyone else. They're fucking HAPPY with you." I'd managed to get most of what I said out in one breath, and took a sharp inhalation in.

"I still expect my guy to look nice if I look nice," Malory huffed.

"I know, honey. Which is why you tend to pick men that are a little more fussy. You know that getting them to dress up will be less work. We all do that. We all go after the ones that look like there are areas we won't have to train them in. But we're also taught to constantly be perfecting ourselves. We change our hair color, our wardrobes, our shades of lipstick with the seasons. The idea of necessary change is ingrained into women from an early age. So we try to force it on men. Only problem is, we don't appreciate men for what they are. Stable creatures. Beacons of sanity in the midst of our fashion magazine frenzy. I like that men don't change much. At least you know there's something that you can count on in this world." I started another cigarette.

"Why are we talking about fashion? What does this have to do with real compromise?" Steph asked.

"It's an indicator. Fucking everything could hinge on fashion, you know how I tie everything into pop culture crap." I motioned for her to pour more Jaeger into my cup.

"Well, let's chew on something a little more substantial. Why do men forget important shit all the time? Why do they not think that birthday presents and small tokens of affection are integral to a female's sanity?" Lilly was practically jumping out of her seat. "I get so tired of doing all these nice little things and getting nothing in return."

"Who says we NEED to have little trinkets? If a man is with us, that's his major sign of affection. Why do we need a Hallmark reminder that he cares? Are we really so fucking blind as to think that he doesn't love us if we don't get a Valentine card? Pul-eeze." I took a hard drag on my smoke to punctuate my irritation.

"Fuck that!" Malory decided to punctuate the air with her stabbing finger. "It's the little things that matter most! Yes, that means a card. Yes, that means some fucking flowers from time to time and yes! That means telling us that we look pretty for no other reason than they want to say it and not because they're trying to butter us up before asking for a blowjob!"

Lilly and Steph laughed loudly and nodded their heads in agreement. "I need that stuff," Lilly said. "I like jewelry too." A smile spread across her face like syrup on a pancake.

"I guess I'm a fucking nut job, because I really don't. I just need to be respected. I need my space, I need to know that I can say anything and not have it be used against me later in an argument. If there was any small token of affection I needed, it would be kisses and hugs. Random ones on the top of my head while I'm sitting at my desk, writing. Or one on a bare shoulder while stopped at a stop light. Stupid, I suppose. Maybe I should start holding out for jewelry." I glanced into the house again. Matt and Joshua were still wailing on the other team.

"OK, make me feel bad, why don't you?" Lilly pouted. "I like the kisses and hugs too, you know."

"So why are they not good enough? I'm not saying that you can't like flowers and jewelry and other baubles, but why do they become such a requirement of the expression of love?" I ran a hand through my hair.

"Because it's valid proof," Malory said. "Something to hold onto. You can't hold onto a kiss. You can't put a hug in a jewelry box. All you have are the emotions. And emotions get stifling. Because if and when it all falls apart, you're trapped with those emotions. You're stuck with empty hands and a half insane heart. At least if you got a necklace or a ring, you can say it wasn't a complete waste of your time."

"I need to get you to write more," I said. Malory tilted her head at me and narrowed her brow in question. "When something breaks up for me, I write about it. I put it into words. That makes the emotions tangible. It also purges them from my being. They're out, they're trapped on paper, and I can see that I got something out of it. A good piece of writing is tangible for me."

"Well, not all of us can do what you do, Chloe," Steph said.

"Who says you can't? There are people with no fingers who have found ways to use a computer and record their thoughts," I argued. "Don't give me that shit that you can't."

"We're not as good at putting it into words as you are," Lilly attempted to explain.

"That's bullshit! When we're around talking, you all express yourselves pretty damn well! So just write that shit down! That's all writing is. Typing out what you might say in a conversation." I stood up and stretched my arms over my head.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" Lilly pondered.

"Hell no! I just have a hypothesis for everything. Most of the shit that I say has yet to be proven. But I have hopes that it will be someday..." I smiled. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I need to go get a little tangible with my guy."

I walked into the house and came up behind Matt, wrapping my arms around his waist. I could feel the muscles of his body working as he spun the handles on the table. Once the goal had been knocked into the other team's goal, he spun around and returned the hug, lowering his head and kissing me at the same time.

"You kicking ass, baby?" I cooed up at him.

"Mmm hmm," he agreed, his lips on mine. I felt his hand creep down my back and grab hold of my rear assets. "This is still my favorite ass, though."

"OK, yeah, whatever," Joshua fumbled uncomfortably with his words. "I can see our game is over now. You two start your own battle." He winked at me and made a clicking noise with his mouth, then headed outside.

"Maybe we should get out of here?" I asked Matt, leaning into my body.

"Maybe we should," he agreed.

"No you don't!" Steph launched into a mocking tirade. "There is still beer to drink!"

"I don't drink beer!" I laughed, arguing back.

"Well, there's still Jaeger to drink! You keep stealing her from me and I'm not going to think so highly of you, Mr." Steph waved a finger at Matt.

"Hmmm. The wrath of one woman incurred for wanting to take another woman home and do naughty things to her? This is getting interesting!" Matt wrapped his arms even tighter around me. "Can I live with it?" he asked, looking down into my eyes.

"I think you can," I nodded and gave him a playfully stern look. "I think you better."

We said our goodbyes and drove back to my place. Within seconds of unlocking the front door, we were all over each other, kissing and groping. Matt pushed me toward the couch. "Can we stretch out on the bed this time?" I asked after getting a break from his mouth on mine.

Matt smiled slyly. "I suppose we could risk it."

We stumbled into the hallway and down to my bedroom. Matt maneuvered me over to the bed and I fell back onto it. He collapsed onto me and we resumed kissing. I worked my hands up inside of his shirt and began to tug at it, finally coercing him to lift his arms and take it off. He settled back onto me and I ran my nails down his back. He threw his head back and growled in his throat.

My legs parted and he rested his weight between them, lightly grinding his pelvis against mine. There was a heat rising between us. It was strong, the strongest yet. Neither of us had had much to drink at Steph's so the power there was raw and unaided. He pulled at my shirt, popping open the buttons. His lips ran kisses down the side of my neck and along my collar bone. His head drifted farther down, kissing my chest and along the edge of my bra, along the tops of my breasts. I wrapped my legs around his waist and fixed him in a vise-like grip.

We were good at the foreplay. Considering it was all we had to go on, it might have been the most passionate that I'd ever experienced. Yet there was a piece in the back of my brain wondering when he would call it off. He'd done so during the middle of the week, hastily making excuses and pressing at the bulge in his crotch. I knew he wanted me, quite possibly even more than I wanted him, but it was still unnerving to be turned down when things looked so close. When he would leave, I would be left to work out my arousal on my own, soothing my bruised ego inside of my head.

I grabbed his hand and guided it downward, pressing it against the throbbing between my legs. He pulled at the button of my jeans and then worked down the zipper. His fingers crawled in and suddenly I felt his fingers pressing gently against my hot button. He worked them in a steady up and down motion, keeping his head against my neck and his tongue flicking at the skin under my ear. My legs closed tightly around his hand, locking it in place.

"Please," I moaned. "Please don't stop this time."

He didn't speak, but sped up and changed the directions of his fingers by way of an answer. His other hand ran along the opposite side of my face and into my hair, grasping at it. His mouth came up and covered mine. His tongue began to mimic the probing that his hand was doing inside of me. The dual sensations made my head spin. He picked up momentum and my heart rate accelerated almost past its breaking point.

"Matt," I murmured. I repeated his name over and over, but as my orgasm finally built to its crescendo, I could no longer hear myself speaking as the blood rushed in my ears. I could feel his mouth trailing down the side of my face and back into my neck. He held on as my back began to arch and come off the bed. The only points of my body connected with the mattress were my shoulders and ass as the rest writhed in bliss.

I slowly relaxed my muscles and eased my way back down, his hand still lightly cupping me, his face still nuzzled into the spot where my neck and shoulders connected. His breathing was sharp. I could feel the pressure of his body next to mine, his erection firm against my leg. I went to reach down and he pulled his hips back.

"Oh," he said softly. "No. Um. No."

I ran my hand down the length of him over his jeans. "I'm eventually going to need to return the favor," I commented. "I want to. I want you to want me to."

"Oh, I want. I want A LOT. I want," he said, pressing a kiss against my neck, "and I want," another kiss, closer to my face, "and I really, really want," the last kiss on my mouth, hot and hard and insistent. "But I also want it to be perfect."

"That's a lot of pressure," I sighed.

"For who? You? Or me?" He continued to place kisses on my face. My cheeks, my forehead, my chin.

"For both of us," I responded, sighing deeper.

"It's a good kind of pressure," he started, his voice supremely confident. "I thrive on pressure. I excel under pressure." His pushed his finger inside of me again, as if to emphasize his point. My breath hitched.

"Eventually I'll get to witness this thriving?" I wiggled against his hand, enjoying the perfect fit of it.

"That you will," he said, then began to move me so that we were lying straight on the bed. He positioned himself behind me, molding his body to mine. "It will be worth it. I promise." His voice was a strong purr.

"It better be," I playfully chastised. "Or I'll kick your Pet Store ass." I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, Matt's body firmly rooted behind mine.