TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as a warning sign. (32/?)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. No profit. Just love.
Evading Lindsay’s grasping hands when she’d gone over the night before to make sure that Lindsay had a decent dinner and to take Martha out for her, had been… challenging, to say the least. Though Lindsay had remained seated in the same spot on the sofa the majority of the time that Cindy was there, she still seemed to be everywhere at once. Or at least her hands did. And it would have been perfectly delightful if Cindy hadn’t wisely resolved to give Lindsay another twenty-four hours to heal. Which she had since determined the dumbest wise decision she’d ever made.
But at least the resting time seemed to have done some actual good. Or so said the fact that, as she was preparing to take Lindsay’s food into the living room, Lindsay managed to hobble into the kitchen, sans crutches, just to try to tempt her into commencing their rendezvous early. Her slow amble into the room was probably more to convince Cindy that she was physically fit enough to participate in hours of sex than that she was actually that healed, but the vitamin parade of fruits and vegetables lining Lindsay’s counter, because her refrigerator was stocked too full to hold anymore, and the off-hand comment that Lindsay had been “juicing” all day long was testament to the fact that Lindsay was at least doing her damndest to heal at a superhero’s pace.
When Lindsay had somehow managed to make it up behind her and Lindsay’s hands started roaming as if attempting to journey to new and exotic places, Cindy had to order her instantly from the room. Even when her own body was screaming that it wanted nothing more than to be taken in the middle of Lindsay’s kitchen table. Lindsay went, albeit slowly, with a prolonged pout and barely a limp, a combination that worked to say, ‘Look, I’m totally ready for sexy time. And you are totally bumming me out by not letting me have it.’
Despite the fact that they had only one more day to wait, when she finally did follow Lindsay back into the living room, it took all of Cindy’s resolve not to toss the tray aside and dive straight into Lindsay’s lap. So while, logically, she knew that Lindsay could probably use another week worth of healing to be in top physical form, the fact was, when it came right down to it, Cindy simply couldn’t wait anymore either. She might have gotten out of Lindsay’s apartment the night before with the majority of her virtue still intact, but tonight she had every intention of giving the rest of it up to Lindsay, whether she was really mended enough to take delivery or not.
As if she’d just been waiting for it all day, and, if questioned under oath, she would have to admit that maybe she was, when her phone rang in the other room, Cindy rushed to it, picking up after only one ring.
“Hey,” Lindsay returned her breathless greeting. “What are you doing?”
Lindsay’s low voice coating her ear like honey, Cindy once again realized just how hopelessly lovesick she was. And had been for some time.
“Just getting things ready,” she got out fairly evenly.
“Oh really,” Lindsay returned, voice dropping to a wicked tone that was a promise of things to come. “What kind of things?”
“You know,” Cindy wet suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, “the baby oil, silk scarves, handcuffs…”
“I thought I had to bring those,” Lindsay interrupted in that same damn voice that made it difficult to do anything but imagine herself draped over Lindsay’s long, lean form like a Snuggie.
“You’re welcome to bring yours too,” Cindy assured her, returning to the real task at hand, pulling the stuffed animals off of her bed and placing them inside a Tupperware container at the far back of the closet. Sorry Mr. Muffles, there won’t be any place for you in my bed tonight.
When Lindsay laughed softly, it was so much like a moan that Cindy shook her head to chase the sudden thoughts away. “I always have them on me,” Lindsay promised, which didn’t help Cindy clear her lust-clouded brain.
Flashing back to the night of their date, and the tight maroon dress, it was impossible not to imagine where Lindsay’s cuffs might have been hidden. And in imagining that, it was also impossible not to remember Lindsay standing in that doorway, looking out at her with such incredible expectation and desire. It really wasn’t that long ago in real world time, but, in Cindy’s own personal waiting world, it felt like an eternity. Which made it hard to acknowledge that, part of that time, they were waiting for a reason… and that reason still existed.
“Are you sure that you’re up for this,” Cindy asked hesitantly, not really sure if she wanted to hear the answer. “You’re not in any pain?”
“Oh, I’m in pain,” Lindsay responded quickly and decisively. “And I know that you’re not going to try to prolong my pain even more.”
With a wildly happy grin, Cindy wadded Mr. Muffles up like a napkin and gave him a hard push, effectively squeezing him into the overstuffed bin. “Just making sure.”
“I am so, so ready,” Lindsay said, voice dropping even lower. So low that Cindy wanted to whimper in response. “So, so ready.”
“Good,” Cindy husked, closing the lid of the Tupperware and taking a large cloud of dust straight up the nose. Caught by surprise, she didn’t have time to stop her rather loud sneeze into the phone.
“Sorry,” Cindy sniffed.
“You okay?” Lindsay asked.
“Yes,” Cindy assured them both. “I’m just cleaning and I got dusted.”
Glancing at the bed as she emerged from the closet, Cindy smirked. “Just cleaning.”
“You know you don’t have to clean up for me, right?” Lindsay said. “I already know you’re a slob.”
Lindsay laughed at herself, funny or not. “So, did we say four?”
“Seven,” Cindy reminded her.
Drawing to a stop in the middle of her room, Cindy took a deep introspective breath. Of all the things that could have happened when she decided to risk laying lips on Lindsay – like Lindsay never speaking to her again or Lindsay force-feeding her a giant knuckle sandwich – she never could have imagined that simple question as one of the possible outcomes.
She didn’t expect Lindsay to try to get her alone, to ask her out on a date, to call her her girlfriend, to agree to go away with her for the weekend, even if it was destined to be interrupted, or, now, to actually ask to speed up time so that she could come be with her sooner.
“So, that’s a yes then?” Lindsay tried after several seconds of non-response.
“No,” Cindy said. “Seven.”
Sooner was better than later, but if she wanted to finish removing childhood mementos from view, cook something that had Lindsay falling at her feet, and actually be clean when she arrived, Cindy needed the few precious hours she had left.
“Fine,” Lindsay huffed. “But this does, in fact, hurt me. I’ve got a serious ache going on here.”
“Well, you’re not the only one. Later, we’ll rub our aches together and see if they cancel each other out.”
Lindsay produced a laughing-groan, which made the point that, while funny, this was no laughing matter. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No. Definitely not,” Cindy said softly. “That’s why I’m going to go. Because the sooner I go, the sooner I finish up, and then maybe I can call you and you can come over early.”
“That’s the way to be a team player,” Lindsay encouraged. “And if I don’t hear anything… four o’clock, right?”
“Sev-en,” Cindy stated plainly.
Lindsay sighed. “Fine, seven.”
“Bye, Linds,” Cindy smiled into the phone.
“Bye,” Lindsay responded.
Once they hung up, Cindy went into fast forward mode. She finished her minor preparations to the bedroom and went into the kitchen.
Pulling out all of the ingredients for her special menu, she lined them up on the counter, before heading for the spice cabinet. It was as she was pulling out the first bottles that she felt the inkling. Just a tiny nose tickle, but enough of one that she backed away from the counter and turned her face in time to let forth a huge, body-shaking sneeze. Righting herself, she cast a furious glare toward the peppermill, though, deep down, Cindy knew it wasn’t to blame.