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Dirty Bad Wrong - Shopping Trip
Mar. 4th, 2005 09:37 amLaying with Dawn on the bed, with her small, slim body curled so tightly against mine was one of those precious moments one wishes would crystallize and be somethiing you could preserve forever. Even with my mind reeling with the implications and conlficts that my growing want for her was causing, I could have stayed that way for a very long time.
"We should eat. And, uh... if I'm staying? I need more clothes. Unless you want me walking around in your shirts all the time."
She was right, of course. We rose, and I fixed what by that time needed to be an early dinner. The storm was slowing, but not finished, and so we spent the rest of the rain time with me trying to convert Dawn to the joys of classic movies. Lolita was out, at least for the moment, lest the irony turn out uncomfortable. West Side Story went over well, as did my one Astaire & Rogers film-- I never knew Dawn was fond of dancing. A few others came and went, and soon it was very late, and Dawn was again curled up against my side on the couch, drowsing.
I carried her to the bed and tucked her in, and despite her sleepy objections, took my place on the couch. Sleep came grudgingly. And I pretended not to hear the soft, mewling sounds that emanated from my bedroom for a time.
Morning came, and after breakfast was done and cleared, my now almost perfunctory resistance faded and Dawn and I spent a solid twenty minutes kissing on the couch. Finally, while she dressed in her one set of clothes, I called in to the office. Cordelia indicated that Gunn was still on his stakeout, and nothing new had come in on any of our other outstanding cases, and a day to myself was not a problem.
With little convincing, I got Dawn down to the local mall. Her expression brightened greatly as we crossed the threshold into that bastion of consumerism. I turned to Dawn and gestured at the numerous stores.
"Well, where would you like to start?"
((Open to Dawn))
"We should eat. And, uh... if I'm staying? I need more clothes. Unless you want me walking around in your shirts all the time."
She was right, of course. We rose, and I fixed what by that time needed to be an early dinner. The storm was slowing, but not finished, and so we spent the rest of the rain time with me trying to convert Dawn to the joys of classic movies. Lolita was out, at least for the moment, lest the irony turn out uncomfortable. West Side Story went over well, as did my one Astaire & Rogers film-- I never knew Dawn was fond of dancing. A few others came and went, and soon it was very late, and Dawn was again curled up against my side on the couch, drowsing.
I carried her to the bed and tucked her in, and despite her sleepy objections, took my place on the couch. Sleep came grudgingly. And I pretended not to hear the soft, mewling sounds that emanated from my bedroom for a time.
Morning came, and after breakfast was done and cleared, my now almost perfunctory resistance faded and Dawn and I spent a solid twenty minutes kissing on the couch. Finally, while she dressed in her one set of clothes, I called in to the office. Cordelia indicated that Gunn was still on his stakeout, and nothing new had come in on any of our other outstanding cases, and a day to myself was not a problem.
With little convincing, I got Dawn down to the local mall. Her expression brightened greatly as we crossed the threshold into that bastion of consumerism. I turned to Dawn and gestured at the numerous stores.
"Well, where would you like to start?"
((Open to Dawn))
