Page 94 of Mistaken Impression

He chuckled and kissed me… like he meant it.

If the night before had been all about setting my mind at rest with gentle lovemaking, that night was definitely his way of showing me that my money didn’t matter in the slightest… that he’d take me any way he could have me. And he did… repeatedly. Not just in the kitchen, while the onion soup was cooking, but also up against the wall in my bedroom, and on the cozy couch, and finally, in my bed.

The next night, after a long day of recording, we went to Mac’s place again. That was my choice, because I wanted to show him I didn’t need the trappings of wealth. I’d meant it when I said I loved his place… I do, and I wanted to go there and show him how much.

For the first time, we rode up in the elevator together. We might have done so at my apartment block, but he was otherwise occupied – or perhaps that should be overwhelmed – worrying about how I came to live in such a place. That night, though, as we ascended to his apartment, I realized what he’dmeant about being in a confined space. It was as though there was no air. I was certainly struggling to breathe, and almost as soon as the doors closed, our lips met in the most passionate of kisses. Our jackets were soon consigned to the floor, as was his t-shirt. He undid my blouse, pulling it from my jeans, and then startled when the elevator doors opened.

“Oh… God.” I glanced outside, but there was no-one there. Why would there be? Mac has the top floor to himself, and he looked down at me, smiling as he bent to grab our clothes from the floor, then pulled my blouse closed and took my hand, dragging me out into the hall.

We ran to his apartment, and he fumbled with the keys, letting us in before he dropped everything and lifted me into his arms, carrying me to the stairs.

“What’s wrong with the couch, Mac? Or the floor? Why are we wasting time going upstairs?” I was desperate for him, and didn’t want to wait another minute.

“I don’t have any condoms down here.”

“But you keep some in your wallet.”

He went up the stairs anyway, putting me down beside the bed. “I know… but I used them all last night and this morning, at your place.”

“Oh.” I looked up at him, smiling. “Maybe we should keep a supply at my apartment?”

“Sure, but can we discuss condoms another time?” He looked down at me, his eyes on fire. “I’ve got better things to be doing right now.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.” He put his fingers in the top of my jeans and pulled me closer.

I shuddered against him and clung to his shoulders as he peeled me out of the rest of my clothes…

Since that night, we’ve made sure there are condoms at both my place and his, and Mac always keeps some in his wallet, too… just in case.

We haven’t exactly alternated between the two apartments, and I think we’ve probably spent more time at his than at mine… although we were at mine a couple of weeks ago, on the evening that my period started. It was my first one since we’d started seeing each other, and for some reason, I’d forgotten how awful they can be… and how unexpected. I’ve never really worked out whether it’s a good thing, or a bad one, that I get no warning when my periods are due, but either way, I was glad to be at home that evening. Apart from anything else, I needed sanitary pads and a change of underwear.

We’d only just got in from work, after a hard Thursday of recording, and I’d gone to the bathroom, taking a lot longer than either of us had expected. When I came out again, Mac frowned, then got up from his place on the couch and came straight to me.

“Ella? What’s wrong? You look really pale.”

“Nothing’s wrong. My period’s just started, that’s all.”

“Oh. Are you okay?” He put his arms around me and I nestled against him.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He turned me around and sat me down on the couch. “At the risk of bringing up my exes, they all had periods, but I can honestly say none of them ever looked quite this ill.”

He sat beside me, and I took his hand in mine. “I’m not ill, Mac. And I’m used to it. The cramps will be horrendous for a couple of days, I’ll feel washed out, and tired beyond words… and then I’ll be okay again.”

“That doesn’t sound like something you should have to get used to.”

“It’s not optional, I’m afraid.”

He smiled, although I could still see the worry in his eyes.

“How have I never noticed this before?” he asked.

“Noticed what?”

“How bad your periods are.”

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