IAN TOOK OFF work early on Friday the eighteenth for the very good reason anyone takes off work early on the Friday before Christmas week—because he could, because there was nothing else to do at work since it was the week before Christmas and because he wanted to have sex with his girlfriend—the sooner, the better.
He hadn’t been to Flash’s apartment yet and that was for good reasons, too—Flash hadn’t asked him over, and he was still working on his house every free moment he had. But work had taken him into Portland, past Flash’s apartment complex, and as they’d been officially dating and sleeping together for two weeks now, he figured he’d earned the right to show up unannounced at his girlfriend’s place to surprise her with flowers and the erection he’d been trying to keep subdued the past hour—all Flash’s fault. In general the bulk of his erections were her fault simply by existing but this one was undeniably all her doing. An hour ago he’d texted her asking if she wanted to get dinner at the Timber Ridge Lodge tonight. She’d said she would as long as they could also get a hotel room and have sex with her tied to the bed. He’d agreed and discovered he couldn’t get a hotel room until tomorrow night, which he’d promptly booked. With that image she’d planted in his head, there was no fucking way he could wait the twenty-four hours to make that fantasy come true. He could only hope she was home and in a bondage sort of mood. He’d brought her flowers. If that didn’t do the trick, he had no idea what would, but he was willing to try begging.
He pulled into her apartment parking lot shortly after five. The complex was nice if somewhat bland. All the buildings looked the same, but they were well-made housing blocks with nicer-than-average landscaping. The abundance of elevators and wheelchair ramps attested to the complex’s past life as a retirement complex. Flash had said her downstairs neighbor was in her late eighties. Perhaps she was a holdout from the old days.
With his flowers in hand he walked up the stairs to Flash’s door and knocked. There was no answer. That was surprising as she hadn’t said anything about going into town today. He knocked again and waited. Nothing. He sent her a quick text asking her where she was. She replied a few seconds later with a terse Driving.
Well, shit.
He put the flowers outside her door. As quiet and well-managed as the place seemed, he didn’t think the flowers were at risk of being stolen. He walked back down the stairs and was on the last step when a door behind him opened.
“Veronica, is that you?”
Ian looked around and found a white-haired woman in a pale blue wool dress standing in a doorway.
“Not Veronica,” he said. “I was just looking for her. She went out, I guess.”
“She did,” the elderly woman said. “I thought she’d come home and I’d missed her. I need her help with something.”
“Can I help you?” Ian asked. “I’m her boyfriend.”
The older woman smiled and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Ian Asher. I should have recognized you. Your hair’s gotten too long. Would you like me to cut it for you? I always cut my boys’ hair.”
“Thank you but that’s okay. I’m getting it cut tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes, the Christmas party is Sunday, isn’t it? You do have to look nice for that. Your father’s announcing his reelection campaign, isn’t he?”
Ian grinned. This woman knew his life better than he did.
“You have to be Mrs. Scheinberg,” Ian said. “Flash told me about you.”
“And she’s told me quite a bit about you. Come in, come in. She should be back soon.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“She’s been cleaning out her workshop all day now that she’s done with her sculpture.”
“She’s done already?”
“Oh, yes, took it to the Morrison two days ago. They wanted it there in time for the holiday gallery hop tonight. Here, let me take your coat.”
Ian shrugged out of his coat and passed it to her. She hung it in the hall closet. She had a nice place. Very old-fashioned but elegant, just like she was.
“I can’t believe she finished it that fast. I need to go see it.”
“You should. She showed me a photograph. Just exquisite. She said she was inspired,” Mrs. Scheinberg said with an impish twinkle in her eyes. “And a little happiness helps with the creation process. I never believed that old yarn that artists have to be miserable to make art. I know Veronica. She does her best work when she’s happy. And you have made her a very happy lady this month. Sit. I’ll make tea.”
She pointed at the kitchen table chair and Ian sat as he was instructed. He would have offered to help but she seemed completely capable of making tea on her own.
“Thanks for letting me wait here for her,” Ian said. “Any idea when she’ll be back?”
“Soon, I imagine. She’s been gone awhile and she said something about being back in time for dinner with you. You’ve been very good about planning dates, I’ve noticed,” Mrs. Scheinberg said as she put water in her tea maker. “My husband was a planner, too. Very thoughtful. Always planning something fun for us to do together. He’s been gone ten years, but I still have over fifty years of good memories to keep me company until we meet again.”
“Sounds like he was a great husband.”
“The very best. But you’ll make a good husband someday, too. I can tell.” She gave him a little wink as she carried two mugs of tea over to the table.
“You can tell? Good. I’m glad someone can. When I was a kid, I thought by the time I was thirty-six I’d already be married and have kids of my own. I was fifteen years old when my father was my age. I’m running a little behind.”
She waved her hand dismissively.
“Times are changing, Mr. Asher. People live longer. What’s the rush settling down? You settle down when you meet the right person, not because you think it’s the right time. You hadn’t met the right person yet. Now you have.”
Ian smiled behind his tea mug.
“Now I have,” he said.
“That’s good to hear. My son is insisting I move in with him and his wife. He says he can’t sleep at night thinking about me all alone. I tell him I’m not alone, that I have my Veronica one floor above me. He says Veronica can’t always be there. So...he’s right about that. This is proof. My light bulb is out in the bathroom and I can’t stand on the chair to change it. And where’s Veronica? Not here.”
“I’m here.”
“But you won’t always be here, either. And as long as she has you and she’s happy, I can be happy and move in with my son without worrying about her being alone. She’s not alone anymore so I can go.”
“I’m sure she’ll really miss you.”
“She will. But she can come see me anytime she wants. I’ll have my own little house in his backyard. They call it a ‘mother-in-law suite.’ Isn’t that something. A whole house to keep the mother-in-law out from underfoot but close enough to keep me out of trouble.”
“I’ve built a few of those,” Ian admitted. “We call them guesthouses, though. It’s a little less insulting.”
“I’m not insulted. I like my daughter-in-law better than my son most days. She has a sense of humor at least. She has to have one to be married to him. But you know something about that, dating my Veronica. She’s what we always called a ‘tough cookie.’”
“She’s a tough cookie, all right. I must like tough cookies.”
“Smart men do,” Mrs. Scheinberg said, nodding her approval. “Would you like a cookie? I have frosted Christmas cookies.”
“No, thank you. Wait, Christmas cookies? I thought Flash said—”
“Oh, yes, I’m Jewish. But I’m a sucker for a frosted Christmas tree. Veronica sneaks them to me. She’s my dealer.”
“She’s a good one,” Ian said.
“The very best.” Mrs. Scheinberg sat her cup down on the table. “Now that I’ve had my tea, would you do me the favor of changing my bathroom light bulb? I may need to see in there very soon.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
She took him to the bathroom where he quickly replaced the light bulb.
“You’re very tall,” she said. “I’d have to stand on a chair and my balance isn’t what it used to be. Another reason to move in with my son. Do you know him? Moshe Scheinberg?”
“Heard of him. Hospital administrator, yes?”
“That’s him. He knows your father. Donated to his campaign.”
“Well, thank your son for us. I’m sure Dad will be hitting him up again soon.”
“We’ll be ready,” she said. “Are you looking forward to the Christmas party?”
“I’m not dreading it. Can’t say I’m excited about it.”
“You should be excited. Veronica will be wearing my red Givenchy. I’m making her wear it. Second time’s a charm, yes?”
Ian grimaced. He’d forgotten Flash had told her neighbor about the party incident.
“About that,” Ian said. “I still feel terrible. But I promise, nothing bad is going to happen at the Christmas party. I’ll be with her.”
“Good. They call people like Veronica ‘crabby’ but that only means she’s got a hard shell. Inside she’s soft as the rest of us. She takes things much harder than she lets on. She was very hurt that night. Very hurt. It’s been good to see her so happy lately. She says her new sculpture is the best work she’s ever done.”
“I hope it sells fast,” he said.
“She does, too.”
Ian grinned. “I’ll tell you a secret. I asked Flash to move in with me.”
“You did? She didn’t tell me. When is she moving?”
“She’s not. Not yet. She said she can’t move in with me until she can afford to pay her half of my monthly mortgage payment.”
“You have to respect that woman.”
“I do, although she drives me crazy with her pride.”
“Let me ask you these three questions, Ian Asher. First, would you want to date a woman without any pride or self-respect? Second, would you want to date a woman who expected you to foot every bill? And third, would you want to be with a woman who was attracted to you because of your father’s money or attracted to you in spite of your family’s money?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Yeah, you may have a point there.”
He started to ask Mrs. Scheinberg a question but he heard the familiar sound of a pickup truck door opening and slamming shut.
“That’s her,” Mrs. Scheinberg said.
“I should go. Thank you for the tea.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Thank you for taking good care of Veronica. She’s been a dear friend to me and I have very few dear friends left.”
“I’ll be your dear friend, too, if you like,” Ian said.
“That would make me very happy.” She patted his cheek. “Such a handsome boy. But you need to cut your hair.”
“Tomorrow morning,” he said again. “I promise.”
“Good boy. Now go on. She’ll be happy to see you.”
Ian took his coat out of the hall closet and noticed the Givenchy dress hanging in a clear plastic dry cleaner bag. He looked at it and he looked at Mrs. Scheinberg.
“Can I ask you something strange?” Ian asked.
“Strange questions are my favorite questions. Go on.”
“Are you really, really attached to this dress?” he asked.
“My husband gave it to me, but I haven’t worn it in forty years. Middle-aged spread is a menace to the waistline, young man.”
“Are you planning on giving it to anyone?”
“I haven’t thought about it. Everything I own goes to my two sons in my will. I don’t think either Moshe or Michael will wear it. Not their color. Why do you ask?”
“Because I need to get Flash a Christmas present, something special.”
“Red is her color,” Mrs. Scheinberg said.
Ian smiled.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
* * *
FIVE MINUTES LATER Ian knocked on Flash’s door.
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
“Joe Biden.”
The door flew wide open and Flash stood there in the doorway.
“You’re not Joe Biden.” She started to shut the door but he put his foot in to stop it.
“I’m a Catholic dude in a suit. Close enough, right?” he asked.
She looked him up and down.
“Close enough.”
“You got my flowers?”
“I did.”
“Did they please you?”
“I was pleased,” she said.
“Did they please you enough that you’ll allow me to have my manly way with you?” he asked.
“I’ll consider it. Come in.” She stepped back and let him in. Before she could even lock the door he pulled her to him and kissed her.
“Ian, stop,” she said, pushing him away. “I’m disgusting.”
“You’re a little foul-mouthed, but hardly disgusting.”
“Let me take a shower before you manhandle me,” she said. “I smell like a blacksmith fucked a coal miner in an oil refinery.”
“Mmm...the sweet, sweet scent of fossil fuels...” He pressed his nose against her neck and inhaled.
“I’m covered in grease and brass polish and you’re going to get it all over your suit.”
“Don’t care. Got lots of suits.”
He pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. She laughed and surrendered to him as he knew she would.
“You look incredibly sexy right now,” he said into her ear as he pulled up the bottom of her T-shirt and touched the bare skin of her stomach. She was wearing ripped jeans, her steel-toed work boots, a tight white T-shirt covered in grease stains. Her arms were dirty, too, and she had a streak of something black across her cheek. Her hair was sweaty and disheveled, and she smelled of sweat and metal polish. “I think I have to fuck you. What do you think?”
“I think I’ve heard worse ideas. But I’ve heard better ideas.”
“What’s a better idea?”
“Fucking me after I take a shower.”
“Terrible idea. This is exactly how I want you,” he said, sliding his hands up her back to find the clasp of her bra. “This is how you looked after work every day.”
“Disgusting? Dirty? Sweaty? Gross?”
“Hot. Hot. Hot. So...” He unhooked her bra. “Fucking.” He lifted her shirt off over her head. “Hot.” He slid her bra down her arms and tossed it onto the floor. His mouth found her mouth and kissed the life out of it as he took her breasts in his hands and massaged them.
He was rock hard already and there was nothing for it but to bury himself inside his unbearably sexy girlfriend as soon as humanly possible. Nothing would stop him from dragging her jeans and panties down her legs, tearing them off, unzipping his pants and fucking her right here against the front door. Nothing. Not an earthquake, not a volcano eruption, not the end of the fucking world.
“Mreow.”
“What was that?” Ian asked.
“My pussy,” Flash said.
Ian looked down at her crotch.
“What’s it trying to tell me?”
“I need to feed my pussy.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” he asked. “Because I’m into that.”
“Oh, my God, I have to feed my cat. Excuse me.” She patted his erection. “You excuse me, too.”
She grabbed her T-shirt off the floor and pulled it on. A small striped gray cat sat in the doorway to the little kitchenette.
“Ian, this is Bob Ross. Bob Ross, this is Ian. You two make friends,” Flash said as she went into the kitchen and picked up a bowl from the floor.
“Why is your cat named Bob Ross?”
“He’s my favorite artist obviously.”
“Your favorite artist is the happy little tree guy?”
“And happy clouds,” Flash said. “You can call him Bob if you want. Or Ross. Or Bob Ross. He’s a cat so he answers to none of them.”
“Hello, Bob Ross,” Ian said. “You are cock-blocking me. Do you know that?”
Bob Ross only looked up at him and blinked. It was a disdainful blink.
“Can I pet you or will you bite me?” Ian asked Bob Ross.
“Only one way to find out,” Flash said as she opened a cabinet.
“Is he a biter?”
“No more so than I am.”
“Not comforting,” he said, remembering the dozens of love bites Flash had left all over his body two weeks ago.
Ian held out his hand and Bob Ross sniffed it before sauntering in the kitchen without giving him another look.
“I think he likes me,” Ian said.
Flash only smiled as she put the cat food on the floor in front of Bob Ross.
“That should keep him busy a couple minutes,” she said. “How fast can you fuck me?”
“Pretty fast,” he said. “Is there a need for speed here?”
“He’ll get on the bed with us and make us pet him. Very hard to fuck and pet a cat at the same time. I’ve tried.”
“Can’t we just not...pet him?”
Flash looked at him as if he’d asked if they could skin Bob Ross and eat him for dinner.
“Okay, can’t we shut the door?” he asked.
“He’ll whine and caterwaul until we let him in.”
“Can we fuck in the shower?”
“I hate shower sex. The stall’s too small.”
“All right. A quickie, it is, then,” Ian said, ripping his tie off. “Let’s do this.”
“Goddamn that was sexy.”.
“What was?” he asked. “Tell me so I can do it again.”
“Ripping your tie off like that. That was insanely sexy.” Flash put her hands on his chest and made as if she wanted to tear his shirt off him. “I’ve seen you in ties and out of ties but that was the first time I’ve ever seen you tear yours off. Please do it more often.”
“You want me to put it back on and do it again?”
“After,” she said. She glanced back over her shoulder at Bob Ross still eating. “We have to hurry. Bob Ross eats fast.”
“I’m hurrying. I’m hurrying.” Ian grabbed Flash around the waist and hoisted her squirming and screaming self over his shoulder.
“Ian!”
“What? You said we had to hurry.”
“Mrs. Scheinberg is going to think I’m getting murdered up here.”
“She knows I’m here. We’ve met.” Ian strode down the narrow hallway to Flash’s bedroom and threw her down onto her back on the bed. “Even if she calls the cops, I’ll be done by the time they get here.”
“I might not be,” she said. He looked down at her and raised his eyebrow. Two nights ago she’d come before he was even inside her. This woman could orgasm easier than he could most nights.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll probably be done.”
“Thought so.”
She unzipped her jeans and he yanked them down her legs. He opened his suit trousers and pulled his cock out. They were on a deadline here. No time to disrobe entirely. He climbed on top of her and pushed her legs wide with his knees. Underneath him, she arched her back, grinding her pussy up and down his cock.
“Are you going to tie me to the bed?” she asked as he lifted her shirt to kiss her breasts. He pulled back and looked down at her.
“Look—you can have bondage or you can have a quickie. But you can’t have both at the same time. Also, you don’t have a headboard so I’d have to install brackets to tie you to the bed.”
“I wouldn’t do brackets. You could damage the drywall.” She tapped the wall. “Maybe a tension rod, floor to ceiling like a stripper pole?”
“With a tile ceiling?” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t hold. Plus you wouldn’t screw the brackets directly into the wall. You screw two-by-fours into the studs and then install the brackets into the two-by-fours. Minimal drywall damage.”
She nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It’s how I mounted the flat screen on the wall at my place.”
“Good idea. Until then we can use the rope that’s under my bed,” she said.
“You have rope under your...never mind. Not asking. Stay.”
She stayed. He pulled an eight-foot length of black rope out from under the bed.
“Suggestions?” he asked.
“Loop it around the bed leg.”
“Genius.” He looped it around the leg and pulled it up to the mattress, grabbed Flash by her wrists and tied them together with a neat camping knot he hadn’t used since his Boy Scout days. “How’s that?”
“Pretty good,” she said, testing the ropes, and they held her arms fast to the bed above her head. “But now I want to try mounting bondage brackets into my wall.”
“You can later. I’m mounting you first.”
“If you—”
He entered her with one hard deep thrust.
“Insist,” she gasped as her eyes closed with pleasure and opened again with desire.
Ian laughed softly and kissed her throat with warm wet nibbling kisses, her favorite kind.
“I insist,” he said into her ear, and she shivered all around him. They were panting already, so eager for sex that foreplay went flying right out the window. Flash put her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips, riding his cock from below him. He watched her face as he fucked her, watched her pupils dilate, watched her pale cheeks flush and her eyelids grow heavy. He loved watching her while he was inside her. There was no better show on earth. When he thrust in, her head tilted back, baring her throat to him. When he pulled back to the tip, she lifted her head as if seeking him out. In again and her eyelashes fluttered, her lips parted and she moaned.
He set a steady pace—not too fast, not too slow—and pumped into her warm wet hole. Moments like this he imagined he could spend the rest of his life inside this woman. A lock of sweat-streaked red hair fell over her eyes and he pushed it out of the way for her since her hands were tied. She turned her head into his hand and kissed his palm. His pushed his thumb into her mouth and she sucked on it while he increased the pressure, pounding into her until the bed moaned as loudly as she did.
He pushed her T-shirt up to her neck again, baring her breasts. He latched on to her right nipple and sucked deeply and possessively. Her body was his, all his... It was so easy to play at being her boss in bed and out of bed, but there was no denying it—he was entirely in her power, under her spell and her command. But she wanted him to be in charge, so he took charge as a gift to her and because her submission was a gift to him that it gave her pleasure to give. He would have told her all of that if he could have, but his heart pounded wildly in his chest, his lungs burned, his thighs burned and everything burned all because of her.
“Ian...” She said his name for no reason and he didn’t ask what she wanted, because he knew what she wanted—him. So that’s what he gave her.
He wrapped his arms around her body, clutching her to his chest as he rode her with his final thrusts. He wasn’t going to last much longer and neither was she. He could already feel her vagina clenching around his cock, squeezing and releasing, pulling and contracting.
“Come when I come,” he ordered. “Not until then.”
She nodded, too breathless to speak. He loved trying to control her orgasms. It was like trying to tame a tiger in that it was nearly impossible and would probably get him killed one of these days.
But what a way to go...
Ian dug his hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head, forcing her to meet his eyes. With their gazes locked on to each other, he lengthened his thrusts as she tilted her hips to meet every last one of them. It was all heat where they joined and unbearably delicious tension. He gave and he gave and she took and she took. She let out a little sound, a cry almost like pain, and he knew she couldn’t hold back anymore. Neither could he.
“Now, Veronica,” he said as he finally let go of his self-control. His come shot out of him in hard spurts deep inside her while she came all around him, shuddering and shivering with a loud cry that died on her lips and turned into the faintest weary gasp.
He sunk down on top of her, relaxing completely as she wrapped her naked legs around his back, holding him to her and in her.
“I am crazy about you,” he panted. “If you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed,” she said breathlessly.
“Good. Very good.” With a groan he rolled off her and onto his back. It was then that two things happened at once. A ball of gray fur landed on his face and someone knocked loudly at the door.
“Veronica, dear? Are you all right?” came Mrs. Scheinberg’s voice through the door. Another series of nervous knocks followed. “Veronica—I heard screaming.”
“Told you so,” Flash said with a sigh.
“That’s it. You’re moving in with me,” he said as he quickly untied her hands, cleaned his semen off her and tossed her the panties he found under the bed.
“Is that an order?” She looked back over her shoulder at him. She was naked from the waist down and her pussy was dripping with his come. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Therefore he answered her in the only way his heart and cock would allow him to answer that question.
“Yes. That’s an order.”
“And I have to obey it?’
“Absolutely. You have no choice.”
She pulled her underwear on, dragged on her jeans with a little hop step and ran her hands through her hair.
“No,” she said, and walked out of the bedroom to deal with Mrs. Scheinberg.
“Okay, take your time. Think it over.”
Ian rolled onto his side and came face-to-face with Bob Ross and his big green eyes.
“Hey,” Ian said. “What’s up?’
Bob Ross turned onto his back, four paws dangling in the air.
“So...we should get to know each other. We’re going to be roommates someday.”
Bob Ross looked up sharply as if he’d heard a noise.
“Yeah, I know she said she’s not moving in with me, but she’ll change her mind, right?”
Bob Ross looked dubious. Then again, didn’t all cats always look a little dubious?
“Be straight with me, Bob Ross. You know her pretty well,” Ian said. “What do you think I should do to get her to agree to move in with me?”
Bob Ross turned onto his side and started licking his own crotch.
Ian nodded, impressed by the cat’s understanding of the situation.
“Good thinking.”
Flash came back into the room and stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Mrs. Scheinberg has a message for you,” Flash said.
“What’s the message?”
“She says, ‘Well done.’”
Ian crossed his legs at the ankles and threaded his fingers together behind his head.
“I aim to please.”
“She thought we were fucking, but she also sort of thought you were stabbing me to death.”
“Not my fault you’re a screamer.”
“If you hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have been screaming. Therefore it’s your fault.”
“No, it’s your fault for living here when you could live with me.”
“Ian.”
“I’m just saying you should move in with me.”
“I’m not opposed to it. I even like the idea. But.”
“But. I know, not until you sell a sculpture.”
“Right. And you need to accept that might take a while.”
“Or...you can move in with me right now and just pay your part of the rent in sex. Barter system, right?”
“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re the one who tried to trade welding services for my body two weeks ago!”
“Oh, yeah, I did do that, didn’t I? But no, I’m not moving in with you until I sell a sculpture. Case closed.”
“Case open. I know how to convince you. Bob Ross told me how.”
She looked at Bob Ross and then back at him.
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
Ian grabbed her around the waist and threw her onto the bed. He wriggled her out of her jeans and underwear again and buried her head between her legs.
“Well,” she said with a happy sigh. “Bob Ross does have a point there.”
Ian opened her folds and licked her still-swollen clitoris. Bob Ross was curled up on Flash’s pillow and contentedly purring. Mrs. Scheinberg knew no one was getting murdered. Nothing was going to stop them now.
Flash’s phone beeped.
“Ignore it,” Ian said between licks.
“I’m ignoring it.”
The phone rang this time. Flash sat up. Ian groaned and rolled onto his back.
“Hold your tongue,” Flash said, picking up her phone off the side table. “It’ll just be a minute. It’s the gallery. Hey, Vaughn,” she said when she answered the phone. “What’s up?”
While Flash was on the phone Ian got into a staring contest with Bob Ross. He won but only because Bob Ross fell asleep halfway through the game. Whatever Flash was talking about with the gallery owner, it must be important. She pulled on her underwear and walked out of the bedroom, the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder. The call went on long enough Ian started to worry. Finally Flash came back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed by her nightstand.
“What’s going on?” Ian asked as Flash carefully placed her phone back on the charger. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if she’d been stunned. “Bad news?”
“No.” She shook her head. Her eyes looked glazed.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up and taking her in his arms. She leaned against him, her forehead on his shoulder.
“My sculptures.”
“What? What happened? Was there a fire? A flood? What?”
“Vaughn, the owner, he says someone came in and really liked my stuff.”
“That’s good. Who?”
“He couldn’t tell me. Some rich art collector. But he loved everything I did. Especially my new piece. And then...”
Ian grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the face.
“And what?”
“He bought one. The one I did of your mother. He bought it—for twenty thousand dollars. Oh, my God... Ian.”
He took her face in his hands, kissed her and kissed her. She was crying so hard with happiness she could barely kiss him back. His heart nearly burst with love and pride. This woman, this incredible woman with dozens of burn scars and old cuts all over her body from spending the last ten years of her life devoting her every single free hour to learning to weld and sculpt and create flower gardens of iron and copper and steel. Had any woman ever deserved success more than this one?
“You’re amazing,” he said. “I knew someone would see how good you were. I knew it. We have to celebrate. We have to celebrate like crazy. We need to call, like, everybody. You probably want to call your mom. And Mrs. Scheinberg. Bob Ross, are you freaking out, too?”
Bob Ross released a little wheezing cat snore. Flash laughed so hard she snorted again.
“Okay, forget Bob Ross. He’s a cat,” Ian said. “What does he know about art? No offense,” he said to Bob Ross, who was looking very offended at the moment. “Are you freaking out? I’m freaking out.”
“I’m freaking out.” She put her hands on her head and spiked her sweaty hair straight up.
“You look like you’ve been electrocuted.” Ian spiked his hair up in solidarity.
“I feel like it.”
He pulled her to him in a hug and rocked her while she cried in her happiness. He kissed her head, her neck, her cheek.
“You know what this means, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, it means you’re buying dinner. And it means you’re the real deal. I already knew that but I’m glad everyone else will know it now, too.”
“Well, all that. But this means I can move in with you,” she said. She wore the biggest smile he’d ever seen in his life. He was blinded by the joy and yet he couldn’t look away from it.
“Yeah, if you want. I mean, I want. I really want. But I won’t make you just because you sold a sculpture. I only want you to move in with me if you want to.”
“I want to.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’m absolutely sure,” she said. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
Flash kissed him again and Ian pushed her onto her back, deepening the kiss until they were both red-cheeked, breathless, wild.
“We have to celebrate,” he said. “We have to.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I’m going to do what I was doing before we were rudely interrupted by all of your dreams coming true.” Ian pushed her legs wide. “I’m going to eat your pussy.”
Bob Ross sat up like a shot and ran straight out of the room.
Ian called out after the terrified cat, “The other pussy!”