So you mean like a date? That phrase constantly replayed in your mind since Allison Cameron uttered it from her pouty lips hours ago. You wanted to scream YES! But that tiny voice inside, the one belonging to your heart that has been phased out more and more as you have grown older and bitterer, was struck silent by the always louder booming voice of your brain. No, the coherent thing to do, the rational answer was Yeah except for the date part.
In all honesty if you hadn’t acquiesced to your pleasure cortex and numbed yourself with Vicoden you would have never offered to take Cameron in the first place. It was too messy, too utterly insane; not that you didn’t want her on your arm and even in your bed because you did but she was half your age for Christ’s sake! But with one instant of temporary drug induced insanity your desire overruled all common sense.
Now as you sat at the edge of your bed, head hanging in your considerable palms you are dumbfounded by the inability to make even the simplest of decisions. What should you wear, how should you act, how could you possibly treat her like a friend instead of the drop dead gorgeous creature that she was because this most certainly WASN’T a date?
You glanced at your cane propped up against the entrance to your room; yeah nothing said Sex Machine like a crippled middle aged misanthrope with a bitchin’ cane and gray thinning hair. Christ, when had you gotten so fucking old?
Hobbling over to said cane a voice from your night stand called out its siren song, Well hello love, come to Daddy. One then two pills found their way down your throat never considering that they were the cause of this whole mess in the first place. A nap was required, you refused to show up early, you couldn’t look that needy so you crawled back into your mammoth bed and slept for 45 minutes.
Waking up refreshed but still nervous you really had to leave. You avoided the mirror that beckoned to you from the bathroom, no you weren’t going to give into your vanity, nope you were going to run your fingers through your hair instead of a comb, not shave and definitely NOT count the new wrinkles that screamed 46 year old bastard because damn it, this WAS NOT a date.
Shit. Suck it up Greg; take a couple more pills, Grave Digger awaits. Of course you did as you were told because the blissful oblivion that your fat white pills offered was immensely more appealing than relying on your charm and wit alone in dealing with your young, and remember that word young, fellow.
Cameron looked like a dream as she opened her door to the thump of your cane against the wood. Of course she didn’t need to know that you had actually been standing there for 10 minutes mustering the courage to knock, your fist never seemed to want to connect with the wood so you finally forced your cane to do the dirty work.
“H...Hi House.” She uttered nervously, pushing a strand of her silky brown hair behind her ear. She had a habit of doing that when she was anxious, not that you paid THAT much attention to her, no it was just a little detail you committed to memory because you were thorough like that.
Cameron turned to lock the door and you allowed yourself a brief glimpse at her outfit as you had never seen her out of work clothes before, this was an important fact finding mission, one more piece to the puzzle of figuring her out. With clinical detachment you observed the cotton of her baby doll top, the way it barely skimmed the top of her jeans offering a view of her no doubt soft and creamy toned tummy. And the dark wash low riders she paired her top with, the way it settled on her dainty hips and caressed her ass like a lover, well being clinically detached and all, it had NO effect on you. That groan that threatened to escape from low in your belly was because of the pain in your leg, the leg that after a butt load of pills seemed to stop aching, but yes, it was the pain.
Cameron drove because she offered and your mind was still a little fuzzy from the pills. She was a decent driver and her seats super comfy. You fiddled with the radio switching between stations as to not have to deal with embarrassing small talk until you settled on your song of choice, “Beast of Burden” by the Stones and closed your eyes allowing the beauty of the music to wash over you. Cameron must have been at ease with your apprehension because she never took her eyes off the road the whole trip until you arrived at the destination.
The parking lot was packed but luckily you had your ace in the hole, your handicapped sticker because damn it, you were crippled and didn’t have to walk long distances. You pause at a souvenir stand on the way in, looking through the wares.
“House!” you hear from behind so you turn and your breathing absolutely stops. Cameron smiling, no scratch that, laughing playfully with a Grave Digger trucker hat perched atop her head. You move fast closing the distance between you two and it’s now Cameron who’s no longer breathing but looking up at you with those damnable wide green eyes. You’re going to kiss her, you’re sure of it and she’s waiting for it, her eyes mere slits and dewy lips parted. Instead you snatch the hat off her head, MINE! And pay the cashier.
The Monster Truck Rally is more fun than you had imagined, and Cameron is more enjoyable a partner than Jimmy ever is. Poor Jimmy’s always worrying about leaving 15 minutes early to avoid traffic while Cameron on the other hand is absorbing the destruction before her with the glee of a 12 year old, which incidentally is about on grade level with your maturity.
Her endless questions are never a bother and it’s hard not to get caught up in her enthusiasm. You even allow her to pull away first when she grips your hand in fear when Medusa nearly flips over and crashes. When the finale is over you don’t even want the night to end. Somehow you know that you will never see Cameron so light hearted and free again, hear that musical laughter from her mouth directed at you in pure amusement. Of course you will blame the pills for this euphoria you feel.
On the way to the car you spot a vendor with cotton candy, that would most certainly hit the spot about now especially mixed with the peanuts, slaw dogs and cherry flavored slushies you’ve already consumed tonight. Cameron balks at the suggestion but you can tell by the look in her eye that she doesn’t mean it. Clutching her hand you drag her over to the line with all the other kids.
A little carrot top in front of you turns and starts poking at your cane with the Popsicle stuck to his chubby fingers. “Why you got that Mister? You old or something.” He asks, damn it where is this brat’s mother? He’s going to get kid germs all over you.
“Nope, got my leg shot when I was escaping prison.” You answer fixing him with your most menacing stare and chuckle when the child quickly sides up to his Mommy.
Cameron punches your arm and tries unsuccessfully to stifle a smile when the ginger boy’s mother looks your way. “Come on.” Cameron says as she hands you a stick of fluffy pink sugar.
Yours is instantly disposed of and you begin to eyeball Cameron’s. The two of you laugh as you point out the maladies of the people around you. You have more than once noticed men Cameron’s age starting to approach her with disbelief as you silently mark her as yours. If it would be more effective you would piss in a circle around the two of you because right now, at this very moment Cameron is yours, her smiles, her laughter, even her cotton candy belong to you and everyone around can sense it. With a sense of male pride you pluck Cameron’s sugary confection from her and feast on it, she grins and you know that spontaneous beaming from her body is for you and you alone and it makes you want to be HER man.
She pulls her car into a spot outside her building, sighing as she turns of the engine. There is an uncomfortable silence while neither of you move. There is so much you want to do, to say. Please let me come up with you, let me stay the night, let me fuck your brains out, let’s do this again. Or maybe a good night kiss, a night cap, anything, you just don’t want the magic of this evening to end.
“Well…” Cameron is the first to speak, her hand resting against the handle of her door. “Tonight was fun.”
A yeah is all you can manage. Real smooth Casanova!
Cameron is the first to get out of the vehicle and you follow suit, damn there goes the hair tuck behind the ear again, “I guess I’ll see you at work then.”
She’s looking at you expectantly, she’s yours all you have to do is say GO!
Yeah, see you at work is all you say and then head to your car never looking back. Your heart is aching, you’re pretty sure there is a tear in the muscle but your brain is back in charge now, the drugs have worn off. You were allowed this one moment of temporary happiness but now you remember this wasn't a date afterall.