Meeting the MacedonianMature

I opened my eyes carefully to avoid being blinded by the sunlight, back again from its vacation on the other half of the planet. Luckily, the giant rack of clothes blocking the window kept the sunlight minimal in the bedroom. I was laying on my stomach, one of Nick's pillows under my arm while the one I had brought with me was under my cheek. I groaned slightly and turned onto my back, lifting my head to look at the digital clock on the other side of the room. It was nearly eleven in the morning, and I smiled as I became aware of Nick's snoring next to me. I turned another ninety degrees and lay on my side, my hand supporting my head as I looked at him. He was laying on his back, his face turned away from my own, with the blankets only covering his lower legs. He must have kicked them away in the night.

I appraised his body silently, my eyes scanning him down. He was a big guy, that went without saying. Standing, he was almost six feet tall, which meant my five-foot-eight self could wear heels freely. He weighed over two-fifty. He thought he was fat, but I thought he was sexy. His Italian and Hispanic roots left him with olive-toned skin that was much darker than my ghostly flesh, not to mention dark brown eyes and jet-black hair that covered his entire body (not too much, not too little, but just right).

His big hands sported thick fingers and neatly-trimmed nails. He had many scars on his hands and arms, mostly from fighting; he had three previously-broken knuckles to prove it. His upper arms each sported their own black tattoos; a beautiful celtic cross on his right arm, which I had helped him pick out last year, and a newer one he got done just a few weeks before today. On the left arm, a tribute to his deceased grandmother, Yolanda; A hooded angel woman kneeled gracefully, hands on her lap, large wings tucked. Her name and the dates surrounded her form, and one dark freckle on his skin left a beauty mark on her cheek.

Of all of Nick's features, it was his face that I always loved most of all his physical attributes. He had full lips that felt great against mine, and a nose that wasn't big or weirdly-shaped, but perfectly fitting for his face. He never had blemishes, and that went for his entire body. He kept his eyebrows neat, and his eyes... big brown eyes that you couldn't help but get lost in. They were closed to me right now, but his long, thick eyelashes fluttered as his eyes moved slightly, as if he were dreaming. His goatee was neatly kept and made him look much older; about twenty-two rather than eighteen, something I found extremely sexy and that made him feel 'Like a 'G', as he said. His hair was always kept short, but it was always soft and a delight to run my hands through, which we both enjoyed amply. Tall, dark and handsome. Being with him made me realize that the stereotype was not just an empty cliche, but something I truly had.

He must have sensed that I was staring at him, because he started to shift in his sleep, and moan quietly. His eyes opened slightly, closed, then opened fully. It took him a moment to even see me lying there next to him.

"Morning," I said in my groggy, 'I just woke up' voice.

He inhaled deeply, in that way people do when they wake up for some reason. "Nuh uh," he mumbled, turning on his side to face me. He wrapped his arm around my middle and pulled me into him, which made me smile and purr in happiness. I was an addict for cuddling with him, and if it were up to me that's all we would do, all day and everyday. Until I felt like having sex or some food, of course.

His eyes were closed again, and his eyelashes were practically fluttering against my forehead, we were laying so close together. I couldn't help myself, and I started kissing him; his nose, his cheek...

"Ouch, your nose was in my eye," he whined with a smile on his face, eyes still shut.

"Very sorry," I whispered, kissing his eyelid very carefully. I couldn't contain myself, and started kissing his lips once, twice... three times before he responded and kissed back.

"Hmm," we both purred simultaneously, and then we laughed at the strangeness of that. But then that unrelenting passion took hold. Or maybe it was just raging teenage hormones.

After about half an hour, we got into the shower together.

Nick's shower was miraculously big enough for two; a standing unit that was twice the size of a single one. It was sealed with two glass sliding doors, with that texturized glass that didn't reveal everything, only blurry outlines. The shelves inside held bathroom supplies I had left or forgotten there on other occasions, things Nick hadn't bothered to throw away. The only things that belonged to him were two bottles of shower gel, a large bottle of Nioxin (I wasn't sure what it was, either), and some Head and Shoulders two-in-one. The other six bottles were mine, and half of them were nearly empty.

Being the gentleman, he let me have the water first, and after I had shampooed and conditioned my long, dark-brown tresses we switched places.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Nick asked, his voice raised slightly so I could hear him over the water.

"Hmm, I don't really know." That was always my answer, unless I had an idea that I wasn't too selfless to share. "I am pretty hungry," I offered.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, turning around to face me after scrubbing all the shampoo out of his hair. The whole shower smelled fantastic now. "My baby wants to eat?" he said, smiling at me.

"Do you?"

"I love to eat, so of course." he said, grinning. "What would you like? We could just order from Vocelli's again maybe, I'll see if Grandma wants to lend me twenty." He started lathering his shower gel on his chest and shoulders. "Sound good?"

"Sure does," I said and laughed. "Guess I'll be off my diet while I'm here, eh?"

"Oh honey," Nick smiled as he rinsed off, "You'll be getting more than enough excersise to make up for that."

"True." Like Nick, I often complained about my weight. I was a small fry compared to him, and he liked the thickness of my thighs and the size of my ass, but I carried quite a few pounds I felt I could do without. It may have had something to do with a woman who came in to my work a couple months back, and sincerely asked me when my baby was due.

"You've lost some, you know," Nick could tell I was thinking about it. "Honestly, you look beautiful." he said, smiling and pulling me to him for a kiss.

"I guess those pills are working." I said.

"Whatever you're doing is working. But here, you don't need to worry." he reassured me. "You all done?"

"Think so," I said, and he turned off the water and opened the sliding door to get out. I followed after giving my hair a quick towel-dry to avoid dripping everywhere.

Just then, I heard the familar rap tune of Nick's cell phone, the sound muffled and hidden somewhere. Nick found the phone in his pants, which were crumpled on the floor, and he answered it.

"Hello, good sir!" he greeted. I couldn't make out the words on the other end, but it sounded male. One of his friends, I assumed. I'd come to know several of them, but a while back he'd had a falling out with his friend Kasey, and I hadn't seen anyone who had hung out with that guy in ages. The only one I'd seen recently was Bob, Nick's closest friend, who I liked quite a bit. Definitely more than I had liked Kasey.

"Alright sir, we'll come and get you in a bit. Yeah," Nick said, and hung up. He looked at me. "Hun, do you mind if we go pick up Thomas?"

Thomas? That was a new one. "Who's Thomas?"

"Friend of mine, from Jackson. He's only a sophomore. He just wants to hang out for a bit."

I smiled. "Sure, that's fine, I don't mind at all." I nodded, bending over to attack my hair with the towel again. "Can we still eat though?"

"How about Pizza Hut? They can deliver here. We'll get a pizza and some wings."

"Sounds good," I agreed.

Nick was already in his jeans again, and putting on socks before going to the rack of shirts and pulling out a white one, covered in old-school style video game insignia; little pixelated planes shooting lasers and such. It was a pleasant change from the South Pole gear or seeing Al Pacino's face on a Scarface tee. "Alrighty," he said, "I'll be downstairs when you're ready to go."

We picked up Thomas from his modest little house, which was only fifteen minutes away from Nick's place. I wanted to laugh when I saw him, because he looked like your typical football jock (I would later discover that I was right); he had huge upper arms and shoulders, with equally-muscled legs which he showed off in board shorts and a tight grey t-shirt. He was very built and in shape, and if I didn't have such a love for big, cuddly kind of guys, it might have interested me. I could think of a few girls back home who would've been drooling over him. His face was clean shaven, and under the backwards baseball cap I could make out sandy, light-brown hair. His eyes were narrow and far apart, and his mouth was always partly open. With me in the front seat, Thomas opened the door and got in the back.

"Hey there, mother fuck-errrr," he greeted Nick as they did their little hand and fist shake. I resisted the urge to shake my head at the kid and laugh.

"Hello sir," Nick returned, gesturing to me. "This is Sarah, my girl." The small laugh was forced out of me at that.

"Hello, ma'am." Thomas greeted. I couldn't see him in the seat behind me.

"Hey there, nice to meet you." Yikes, why was I always greeting people like some kind of snob?

As I learned later on, Thomas had a lot of Macedonian heritage, and had family who lived there. He was only sixteen, but the muscles would've made me think otherwise. He played football for the Jackson team, but was having complications staying on the team due to a few failed courses. The guy could drink a whole case of beer and a dozen shots before he even felt a buzz, which I would've found more impressive if I were more okay with the whole drinking scene. He fought on and off with his mother and his brothers, and was often out of the house to avoid them. I assumed that was why he was here with us today.

Nick had put his Mp3 player on in the meantime, and the two boys were rapping along with L'il Wayne, which left me free to think to myself. Nick put his hand on my thigh at one point and leaned over for a kiss, maybe he thought I was feeling a little out of place.

I didn't mind; I was the one in the front seat, and in my mind, that let me know that I was far more important than the Macedonian.

The End

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