Slowhand - Chapter 4
Sorry it took so long to get this out. You know how life has that funny way of catching up with you? Yeah...anyway, standard disclaimers apply. No minors, obey the laws of your country/territory. Story is yiff-based with consenting adults of the male and female pairing. Eventual bondage and all that jazz. No likie, no readie. Now that that's been said, enjoy!
Slowhand
Chapter 4: Foolish Pride
Layla sighed and fidgeted outside the security checkpoint, checking her watch for the second time that minute. She needed to stop worrying, and find some way to get that morning cup of coffee out of her system. The vixen felt as jumpy as a squirrel on crack--which in DC, wasn't too hard to find, sadly--and all for a minor issue.
Ezra's plane was due in at any moment.
It wasn't even five days after he'd lost his job, and now he was coming up to interview for the new position in the art gallery. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for him, she was thrilled, but the issue was that this was the first time they were meeting. Ever. And he would be staying with her in her apartment...and maybe in her bed too.
You fucking idiot, she reprimanded herself. 'This guy could be an ax-murderer or a rapist, and you're inviting him into your home the first time you meet him. Not only are you stupid, but desperate too. Are you that willing that you'll take a complete stranger to bed with you?'
She had to stop that train of thought; she refused to allow the teachings of her Catholic high school make her call herself a whore. Females got needs too, she decided.
She checked the teleprompter again. Ezra's flight was on-time; it just got into the gate.
Layla took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'Okay, relax, everything is fine, nothing is wrong. He's going to get off that plane, and he'll be normal. Be cool.'
A wave of furs started filing out of the terminal, lugging carry-ons and some with small children. The vixen stood on her tip-toes, trying to see if she could locate her guest, then realized that was stupid. How could anyone miss a nearly seven foot tall white tiger?
Suddenly she saw him. Her heart sped up and she felt heat rising to her face, her nerves getting frazzled all over again. Oh god, there he was...
He seemed to spot her almost immediately. He raised a large paw and waved, and she returned it, offering a nervous smile. Layla swallowed hard as he walked toward her, then felt her heart flutter. Wow...he wasn't kidding about having a love/hate relationship with cameras--photos didn't flatter him at all. She realized with an internal sigh of relief that he looked much better in person than over the internet.
Ezra stepped up to her, craning his neck to look down at her. "Um...Layla?"
"Yes," she answered. A long pause; neither knew how to continue. "Um, how was your flight?"
"It was..."
"Southwest Air?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind. I hope you weren't too uncomfortable..." she noted him stretching out his back, the vertebrae popping. Well, that answered that question. Her neck was beginning to hurt, having been craned back to look up at him. "You're really tall."
"You're really short," he retorted. "Cute, though."
She smirked. "Glad you think so highly of me."
"I do."
They smiled at each other, then at the same time, moved in for a hug. Layla expected just to wrap her arms around his middle, but Ezra caught her under her arms and lifted her up, so that they were face to face. Layla let out a surprised yip, clinging to his shoulders, afraid of falling. Ezra chuckled and gave her as tight a hug as he dared, then set her down. "So, um..."
Layla grinned. "Welcome to D.C."
The drive back to her apartment was long, thanks to the absurdly difficult traffic on the Beltway. Ezra apologized for not taking an earlier flight so they could have avoided rush hour; Layla assured him it didn't make much of a difference anyway.
An hour after he landed, they made it to her apartment. Layla fit the key into the lock and pushed open. Throughout the entire drive, a smile had been ever-present on her face. Ezra saw that as soon as she walked into her living area and saw the couple on the couch, that smile faded faster than fog on a hot day.
"Oh," the vixen said as evenly as she could, "I didn't know Jordan would be over..."
Liz smiled at her, the lioness looking unnaturally drawn. Dark circles were under her eyes, which looked glazed over and tired. "Yeah, we decided to have a night in. That's okay, right?"
Layla looked at Ezra and communicated silently 'we are going OUT tonight'. "Sure, that's fine. Ezra and I were going to go to Fuji anyway."
Liz eyed the tiger, "Ezra eh? That guy you've been talking to online?"
"Could you please act like he's in the room?" Layla requested as politely as she could. The lioness shrugged, apologizing to Ezra. The white tiger brushed it off, attributing it to his notions that most Northerners had bad manners (then again, so did a lot of Southerners). What he didn't like was the look Jordan was giving him.
The bear at first seemed taken aback by the appearance of the tall muscular tiger in the apartment, and a glance in Layla's direction told Ezra that it was likely possible that the bear, despite his size, was scared of the petite vixen. The tiger looked over at her, as she set her purse down and turned off her cell phone. Good foxy, he thought with an internal smile.
"Why don't we get you settled in?" she offered. "You can put your bags in my room for now."
"Okay," he started. "Where am I sleeping?"
Liz interjected. "The sofa has a pull-out bed. I can make it up for you."
Ezra nodded, "That's real nice of you, ma'am." He learned from his Mama that if you insert a "ma'am" at the end of a sentence when addressing a woman, you get instant points in her book.
Layla showed him into his room and he smiled at the décor. A vase with three orchids sat on the dresser, reflected in the mirror hanging above the drawers. Her full-sized bed was neatly made and reflected the simple clutter-less Zen atmosphere of her room. Ezra set his bags down in front of her wardrobe and looked over at her as she sat on the edge of her bed. She sent him a shy, nervous smile, averting her eyes a second later. Ezra felt a little relieved, at least she was as uncertain as he was.
Layla was still a nervous wreck. Part of the fear she harbored had been relieved by the simple fact he would be sleeping on the couch in the next room, and that her room had a lock. But what was wrong with her? Were those horror stories of creeps and murdering rapists women met on the internet holding her back? Most likely, but she'd invested a lot to help him. They'd been speaking for months, knew each other well enough, but the question in her mind plagued her: how did she know everything he'd ever said to her wasn't a lie? How could she know she could trust him?
"So..." he started, jolting her out of her conflicting thoughts. She jumped a little, her tail frizzing up. "Huh? Oh yeah, um..." words suddenly failed her. They'd talked the whole way from the airport, what had happened now?
"Do I make you nervous?" he asked her finally. Layla shyly looked up to him, into his green eyes. The white tiger saw that she wasn't just nervous, she looked terrified. "Why are you scared of me?"
Layla laughed nervously, "Oh Christ, I don't know...this whole time I've had these nagging thoughts...you know, in the back of my mind. But it's all really ridiculous, I'm sure."
Ezra took one of her small hands in his and held it gently. Her blue eyes were glued on their joined hands, and she took deep breaths to calm herself. He could feel her elevated pulse on her wrist. The tiger took his other hand and tilted her chin up to look at him.
"Layla, I know this is the first time we've ever really met, and we might've moved a little too fast, but I just want you to know that so help me God, I will NEVER hurt you."
Layla looked a little unsure, but seemed to see the conviction in his eyes, the honesty in them. And for that brief moment, she saw he was just as scared as she was. And why shouldn't he be? He was moving a world away from what he was used to, to a completely different city, a different life, no friends, no clear line in his future. If the same thing had happened to her, she'd have been a nervous wreck.
The vixen took a deep breath to calm herself down and willed her heart to slow its erratic beating. They were so close right now, it was scaring her. The tiger sitting next to her sighed and took both of her hands in one large one. She looked down at their joined hands and felt the rising discomfort...
"My hands look like a child's next to yours," she said finally. "I always hate it when people assume I'm younger than I am; I'm never taken seriously."
Ezra shook his head, holding up one of his hands and pressing one of her own against his palm; her fingertips barely reached the first digit after his knuckle. 'Such tiny hands,' he thought, then slowly entwined his fingers with hers, then kissed the back of her hand. "No, a woman's hands. I know a woman when I see one, and I see a very beautiful and very classy one right in front--"
He got cut off when yelling rose up in the next room. Layla gripped his wrist with both her hands. "Don't bother. They've been fighting like that the past couple nights."
'Fighting' was the operative word in this case. The shouting match seemed to come mostly from Jordan, and the things the bear was saying to Liz was making Ezra's blood boil. He growled loudly, making Layla jump away in alarm. The tiger instantly regretted it and promptly apologized, "I'm sorry, I can't stand seeing a woman treated like that...does he call her those things often?"
Layla sighed and hugged herself, sadly glancing at the door, "Sometimes they're worse, especially after a couple drinks. I don't keep any alcohol in the place anymore, in case he gets tempted."
"And your roommate? She just takes it?" he asked, trying to control his righteous anger.
Layla sighed, running a hand through her hair, "Sometimes I think she thinks that she deserves it. I've tried reasoning with her, tell her to break up with him, but it never sinks in. I don't know how to get through; she just blocks me out sometimes."
Ezra sighed, got up and moved over to the vixen, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. He looked up into her eyes and said firmly, "You need to know, and I will tell you right now--my mama raised me right. If I ever raise my voice or even a damn finger against a woman, may God strike me down right where I stand. I know you're still kinda scared, but," he chuckled mirthlessly, "I kinda am too."
Layla offered a small smile, comforted. She wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to hold her tightly, and the vixen discovered something surprising.
She completely trusted him.
That night at dinner was much livelier and playful. Layla had driven the two of them to a local sushi restaurant, and informed Ezra that yes, the fish was fresh, as in was-alive-this-morning fresh, and he was mystified by this knowledge.
"So wait, the crab in this California roll was caught today and cooked today?"
"Yes, dear," she teased. "So were the tuna, the yellowtail, salmon and whitefish. Anything else you'd like to add?"
"I think I might really like living here," he grinned. "Good luck finding a vegetarian menu down south, but here..."
"At least you have the fish, like a good kitty would enjoy," the vixen teased cheekily, dipping her slice of salmon into the offered soy sauce, a slice of ginger on top. She popped it whole into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully and reaching for her glass of water.
Ezra smirked and gulped down some whitefish, growling playfully, "Careful, carnivore."
Layla giggled, "Or what?"
Ezra leaned in and whispered, "Or you'll have to be punished."
Layla blushed, coughing a little from the overpowering taste of the ginger. "O-oh, well, I guess I should behave myself then, shouldn't I?"
Ezra smiled down at her and took her hand in his, "I'm kidding you know."
She winked. "I know..." she was cut off when Ezra's cell went off. He growled and rolled his eyes, checking the caller ID.
"What's the area code here?"
"If it starts with 4, you're good."
He answered the phone to be greeted with the unusually perky voice of a male on the other end, "Hello! I hope this is Ezra Naylor?"
"Yeah..."
"Oh good! This is Michael Grandin, your new boss..."
Ezra's eyes lit up and Layla smiled. "Yeah! Yeah, hi. Um, how are you?"
"Couldn't be better, Ezra, couldn't be better. Are you in the District yet?"
"Yeah, I flew in this morning."
"Excellent! Can you start Monday morning?"
"Wait, don't you need to interview me?"
Michael laughed on the other end, "Oh don't worry, that's not an issue. We've checked your references, your credentials look great, we're excited to have you!"
"Well, um, that's great!"
"Great! I'll see you Monday!"
Ezra hung up and grinned at Layla. "I got the job!"
She pumped a fist into the air in celebration. "This calls for more drinks!"
"Don't you have to drive?"
"This is DC: who drives?"
They got back to her apartment later than either of them expected. Instead of driving home straight away, Ezra and Layla decided to catch a movie. They figured waiting two hours after drinking would be sufficient enough to get them home safely. They barely paid any attention to the movie, instead holding hands and still feeling slightly awkward about being so close to one another. Layla blushed like a schoolgirl when he held her hand, and he likewise was unsure how to continue from here.
After the film, the pair walked back to her car, enjoying the breeze that came off the Potomac River to the south. Layla pulled her hair back to get it off her neck and sighed,
"Summers here really suck."
"How hot is it again?" he asked.
"Well," she began. "It feels like its ninety-something, but its probably low eighties, but the humidity's what gets ya."
Ezra laughed, "Eighties with humidity is a Texas spring!" He cleared his throat when she glowered at him, "Just sayin'. Um...are you sure you're okay to drive?" he asked, changing the subject.
She nodded, "I'm fine now, I just can't drive right after drinking. Don't worry, I'm a lightweight, but I'm not so stupid as to go out and drive drunk. Enough people die in this city as it is," she said dismally.
"Don't you live here?" he asked.
"Nope, Loudon County, Virginia. Cost of living's high but its not as bad as living in the city proper. Here we are," she said, unlocking her car doors. He stepped over to the passenger side and squeezed in. He had to practically bring his knees to his chest to fit into her tiny car, but otherwise he didn't mind it so much.
The drive back to her apartment was more subdued than their first trip together. He could tell that the vixen was still nervous, as she tried to buy time and distracted the both of them by making a last-minute decision to do a driving tour of some of the more memorable sites.
"And if you look close enough to the Washington Monument, you can see that the bottom half is a slightly different shade than the top half. They ran out of rock at the original quarry, so they had to ship in from a different location..."
He let her carry on, but inside his head, he was questioning everything he had done in the past week. Was it wise to have quit his job like he did, jeopardize his future and travel over a thousand miles to stay with a woman he had never met in person? Well, of course it wasn't. So why was he here? The white tiger thought about it and sighed inwardly, thinking to himself 'I've been a damn fool. What can I expect from her so soon? She's too classy to jump in bed with just anyone, and Lord knows I'm just not ready for that yet.'
He glanced over at her, studying her profile for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road in front of him. Whatever happened tonight wouldn't be much, he knew. He expected little more than a kiss good night.
They got back to the apartment to find it dark except for a light in the kitchen. Layla flicked on the living room's lights and set her purse down by the door. On the entryway table was a note she read aloud, "Went to Jordan's place, will be home tomorrow morning. Well, I hope she lives up to that."
Ezra shifted through his duffle bag and looked up at the vixen, seeing her try to rub her own shoulders, looking visibly distressed. He said softly, "You shouldn't feel responsible for her mistakes."
She glanced down at him and then plopped onto the sofa. Sighing raggedly, she leaned back and groaned, "I know I shouldn't, but as much as her poor taste in men aggravates me, she's still my roommate, and she's still my friend. I just don't want to see her hurt."
"I know, and she wont be, since she's got such a good friend in you," he offered with a comforting smile. Layla smiled back at him and patted the space next to her. "Come on, lets watch a movie or something. Its too early for bed anyway."
Ezra plopped down next to her, and she reached over the arm of the sofa for a grey and blue striped bag. The white tiger watched her as she pulled out three balls of yarn in varying hues and a small project on three needles. He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head in confusion. "What is that?"
Layla smirked and held it up, "A sock. This is just the cuff for now."
"You make your own socks?"
"Yup."
"You could just buy them, you know."
"Yeah, but finding wool socks for women is a pain in the ass--I'd rather make them. It serves the dual purpose of warm feet in winter and not using the knitting needles to kill people."
While she smiled innocently, Ezra couldn't help but wonder if she was actually joking. Those aluminum double-pointed needles looked like they could be lethal if used the right way.
As she got to work, he gave up trying to figure out the complexities of knitting in the round, though she did so with such efficiency with her dexterous little fingers he was quickly impressed. His mind focused more on what she was doing with her hands than the movie they had popped into the DVD player. Her use of color was masterful at best, and the way she fingered the fiber in her hands was almost sensuous, soft, graceful and delicate. She was an artist like himself, he realized, the only difference was the medium she used.
"How do you like the movie?" she asked, picking up on his staring. Ezra's ears perked up and he realized he'd been caught. The tiger blushed and admitted, "sorry, never seen someone knitting before. You been doing it long?"
He suddenly wished he hadn't asked. He quickly learned that asking this vixen about her hobby was like asking a computer programmer to explain binary code to someone who couldn't even turn on a computer. She launched into a narrative about her needing a constructive outlet for college stress, and picked up some needles and cheap acrylic yarn and got to work. Then she bemoaned acrylic and damned it to hell because of the lack of quality, then cursed the fact wool and alpaca yarn was so expensive, and so many other terms such as "rib stitch" and "basket weave"...
Wait, when the hell did basket weaving come into this? he wondered. And what the fuck is 'felting'? "Wait, wait..." he paused, cutting her off during one complicated explanation of a knitter's lingo that was closer to Klingon than English. "So let me get this straight, you knit a bag..."
"Yes, a tote bag."
"Okay, out of wool?"
"One hundred percent, yes."
"And you intentionally put it in the washing machine?"
"Inside a pillowcase and a load of towels, yes. The fibers rub against each other and that's what causes the wool to become felted. My knitting bag here," she held it up, "is felted. When you knit something, there's still holes that things can fall through. Felting the bag closes up those holes, and the fiber is sturdier. See?"
He ran his fingers over the bag and was surprised to find that, though it was stiff, it was still very soft. "So you intentionally wash wool in the machine..."
"Never sweaters though!" she corrected him. "Anything else, I would never felt. Ever," she finished pointedly, then picked up her sock again and continued knitting.
"And what's that, um, technique? What you're doing right now?"
"Knitting in the round, using DPN's. I hate using circs, they always stretch out my project, and don't get me started on trying to use size 1's to make a sock..."
"Um, okay."
"None of that made any sense, did it?"
"Can I Google some of these terms?"
"You'll get it eventually. Liz had no clue what the hell I was talking about until I taught her how to knit herself. She started a scarf, got bored, so its probably somewhere in her closet. I'll have to ask her if I can salvage the yarn to make something out of it..."
"You're a yarn fiend," he teased. She shrugged, picking up another ball of yarn and starting a new stripe in the sock. "Actually, the term is 'yarn harlot'."
"It's what?"
"If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'," she joked. "But to be honest, most of us knitters and crotchetier's agree that acrylic is the crack whore of the yarn world since its so cheap and easily accessible. Now, silk and alpaca wool, oohh..." she giggled and grinned, as if lost in a sensuous fantasy. "Those would be the courtesans..."
Ezra was a little jealous--he wanted to be a part of that fantasy, even if it meant getting tied up with that yarn. A wicked thought of him getting tied down to the bed or her getting tied down with a few scarves popped into his mind, but he quickly suppressed it. "So you're a yarn junkie," he said instead.
She shrugged, starting another stripe, "Frankly, I think crack would be a cheaper hobby than this."
He laughed loudly and for a couple minutes. He snorted laughter and looked over at her; finding her completely serious, he laughed some more. "Oh...sorry, that had to be one of the funniest things anyone's ever said to me."
"You think it's funny that I'd rather be addicted to yarn than crack?"
"Actually, I prefer it. I've dated stoners--it's not fun."
"Nope, not at all," she agreed. She set her work down and arched her back, groaning and rolling her shoulders. Ezra took this as a cue and started to massage her shoulders and neck, smiling as she murred softly. "That feel good?"
"mm-hmm," she hummed. "You give massages a lot?"
"Only to worthy women...and I think you're worthy." He turned her so that her back was facing him and he began his firm yet gentle rhythmic attentions to her back and shoulders. He already felt some knots, particularly near her shoulders. She took on a lot of stress.
"Just relax..."
"Ezra?"
"Yes?"
"Can we continue this on my bed?"
He paused; she wanted it, so soon? If they moved to her bedroom, he knew that there was only one thing that could come out of it. and instinctively, he knew the both of them weren't ready for that. "I...I think its best that we both go to bed. You and I both got work tomorrow."
Layla felt like she'd been slapped. Utterly dejected, she sighed and put her knitting away. "I guess you have a point," she said solemnly. "Need help with the sofa bed?"
"No, I've got it. And Layla..." he stood up and hugged her tenderly. She responded by wrapping her arms around his middle, resting her cheek on his warm chest. She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her short hair.
"Layla, I know exactly how you feel...I just don't think we're ready for that yet."
"I understand."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. We'll just have to wait it out, get to know each other better, and get you settled in. I'll wake you when my alarm goes off--we're both going to roundabout the same place tomorrow, so we'll leave at the same time."
"Okay..." he wasn't entirely convinced she was alright with this. nevertheless, he had to accept it. "You sleep well, okay?"
The vixen nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. "I will. Good night."
He nodded, not smiling, "Good night."
The two of them settled in for their first night together, but as Ezra climbed into the sofa bed and pulled the covers up to his chest--and realized the bed was entirely too short for him--he caught himself wondering how she was feeling. He felt bad about rejecting her tonight, but what was he to do? He was too much of a gentleman to make a move on a lady so soon into a relationship. He'd done one-night stands and hated them. This was one occasion that he didn't want to screw up, no matter what, and no matter how long he had to wait.