Author's Notes:
First, this story is part of the
2024 Literotica Geek Pride Story Event
, so the subject matter is a bit more light-hearted and fun. Plenty of the adult stuff in here, but also a fair bit of humor and silliness.
Second, if you haven't seen Deadpool, you might not get some of the references.
Third, I was inspired by music when writing this. I recently learned about the key change in music. You can be playing in one key, then switch to a different key mid-song, which changes the sound. I played with that in the writing context.
Fourth, while this is a standalone story, the characters have appeared in three of prior stories. If you like this one, you may like the others.
***
"You want to go where?" I asked, unsure if I'd heard her correctly.
"Comicon!" Layna replied enthusiastically, her striking turquoise eyes twinkling with excitement. "It's the last weekend in July, down in San Diego."
"You're talking about a comic book convention, right?" I asked, still thinking she was messing with me.
"It's more than just that," she countered, still smiling broadly. "It's an experience. They have speakers that present about upcoming movies. Maybe they'll have news on the next Deadpool movie. I know how much you love your boy, Ryan."
It was true. I loved the Merc with the Mouth. He was one of the few Marvel characters I enjoyed. It's like he was designed for a guy like me: a foul-mouthed wise ass who blows peoples' brains out or hacks them to pieces with his twin katanas. However, despite my secret, one-way bromance with Ryan Reynolds, I still didn't want to spend a summer weekend at a geek-fest.
"I used to go to Comicon all the time before we met," she added. "You'll love it. It's so fun!"
"Don't people dress up like it's Halloween?" I inquired, though I was just buying time.
"It's called cosplay, but yes, that's one of the best parts," she answered enthusiastically, her excitement showing no signs of waning.
"Is that how you found those awesome Mortal Kombat costumes that we wore for Halloween last year?" I asked, still trying to buy time.
"Jake?" she asked, the enthusiasm fading as she hit me with her serious voice.
"And how did I not know you were such a nerd?" I joked, hoping to change the subject. "When did that happen?"
"Jake," she said sternly, giving me a no-nonsense expression; her eyebrows cocked, and her head tilted.
"Ugh," I sighed, my shoulders falling. "I don't want to spend a weekend in July at a comic book convention, babe. Can we do something else?" I offered, hoping she'd suggest something else. Anything else.
"Yeah, Jake," she replied, annoyed. "I'm sure there's a game on that weekend that you want to watch. There's always a game on."
'Ouch,' I thought, as I watched my fiancée turn around, walk into our bedroom, and close the door. 'That didn't go well.'
***
I entered my credit card information on the hotel's website and clicked submit. When I received the confirmation of my reservation, I closed the screen and stood up. I sighed, then headed to Layna's office, which was right next to mine.
Layna and I usually worked in the conference room together. However, for the past two days, since I shot her down on going to Comicon, she'd been working in her own office.
The last two days had been tense between us. Layna had been angry at me before. For a year after we met, we shared a mutual dislike for one another. Yet, this time was different. Layna wasn't just angry. She was disappointed in me.
And her disappointment bothered me more than if she'd just been pissed at me. Because, unlike during our one-year feud, I care about Layna now. We were getting married in a month. It pained me to know that I'd disappointed the woman I loved. I never wanted to let her down.
When I thought it through, I understood what she was upset about. Her remark that there was "always a game on," made it clear that she felt we always did the things I wanted to do. Basically, I'd been a selfish prick.
I hadn't seen it that way until she brought it up because we had so much fun together. We worked together and loved our jobs. We exercised together. We ate meals together, where the conversation always flowed, usually about work or wedding plans. We watched television together, usually liking the same shows. And, best of all, we had an incredible sex life.
Layna and I were also different in many ways, though. I was a crude, sport-obsessed cave man. She liked sports, too, and often watched them with me. Yet, she was also far more worldly than me. She liked art, theatre, concerts, dancing, reading books, and, apparently, nerdy shit like Comicon.
Being an athlete and a bachelor up until my thirties, I'd gotten very accustomed to watching sports, reading about sports, or talking about sports all the time. I never had someone in my life with whom I had to compromise. I did what I wanted, didn't ask permission, and had no one to apologize to.
I realized that if I was going to marry Layna--and I wanted to marry her more than anything in the world--then I needed to be more open to doing things she wanted to do. I couldn't do what I wanted all the time. I had to be more flexible if I wanted our relationship to work. And I did want it to work. That was the realization I arrived at earlier in the day.
Her office door was open. I stepped inside, knocked on the door, and asked cautiously, "Hey, can I talk to you?"
She looked up from her computer, her eyes meeting mine, then answered flatly, "Sure. What's up?"
"I've been thinking... "
"There's a change," she mumbled, interrupting me.
I was undeterred.
"I've been thinking that you are right, and I was wrong."
That got her attention. She folded her arms and sat back, her eyes granting me permission to proceed.
"When you made the comment the other day about there always being a game on, I realized I was being selfish. You try to enjoy the things I like, including things you probably wouldn't do if it were up to you. I haven't given you the same courtesy. The same respect. I'm sorry, babe."
"Look, Jake," she began, her tone a little softer. "I don't mind watching sports. I know it's your passion, and I love that about you. Plus, our jobs revolve around sports. I get that it's important to know what's going on. I just don't want it to become the only focal point of our lives. Like, maybe we could watch one, maybe two baseball games on the weekend, instead of four or more."
"I agree," I jumped in. "I want to be better about making sure we're also doing things that you enjoy, which is why I booked us a room in San Diego for the weekend."
Layna's eyes lit up, her smile creeping up at the corners.
"We're going to Comicon," I finished, flashing her a grin.
Layna screamed as she hopped out of her chair, then threw herself at me. She pecked at my lips, cheeks, and neck, as she threw her arms around my neck and wrapped her legs around my waist. I nearly fell over from her assault.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she gushed, the joy in her eyes warming my heart. I met her gaze and saw the look in her eyes that I loved to see. The one that told me she loved me.
"You're welcome, princess," I whispered. "Forgive me?"
"Yes," she answered. "Thanks for thinking about my feelings."
She unwrapped her legs from around me, though kept her arms around my neck.
"Does this mean you'll get dressed up in costume with me?" she asked eagerly.
"Don't push your luck, princess," I replied with a smirk.
"Please," she begged, her lower lip out in a pout, her eyes sad and pleading.
"I'll think about it," I conceded.
"That's all I need," she said. "I think I have a way to help you make up your mind."
Watching Layna's lips curl into a wicked grin, I was concerned about what she had in mind.
***
I looked away from the endorsement agreement I was reviewing to check my watch. Layna had been gone for about forty-five minutes. She said she was running downstairs to grab us lunch, which usually didn't take this long. I wasn't that hungry, but I was a little concerned about how long it was taking her. I decided to give her fifteen more minutes, then dove back into the agreement.
"Excuse me, Professor Maxwell," I heard a sultry voice behind me say from the doorway to the conference room. "I'm having a 'hard' time with your class. Can I talk to you about it?"
I swiveled around in my chair and nearly fell out of it when I saw who, or what, was standing in the doorway.
It was Layna, wearing black rimmed glasses, her long blonde hair in two pigtails, and what, I think, was supposed to be a schoolgirl outfit. It sure as shit wasn't from any school I'd ever attended. The short-sleeved white button-up shirt, pocket protector, and black tie looked normal. However, the very short red, black, and white plaid skirt, sheer white knee-high socks, and black Maryjane pumps looked more like something I'd expect to see worn at a Spearmint Rhino than at any school.
She stared at me coquettishly, her forefinger in her mouth between her teeth, her left knee bent, as she swayed her hips slightly. The classic, "I'm shy but want you to fuck my brains out" pose.
I sat speechless. In my moment of hesitation, I saw it in her eyes. Triumph. She had me right where she wanted me, and she knew it.
"Oh, Professor Maxwell, I would do anything to pass your class," she continued, walking toward me, eyeing me hungrily like I was her lunch. "Just tell me what I can do."
My mouth moved, but no sound came out. I was like a fish out of water, gasping for air.
She grinned.
"It's okay, Professor, I know you can't say what you want," she went on, her hands on my chest while her left knee rested between my legs, right up against my crotch. "I know it could get you fired to say what it is that you want.
"But I know what it is," she said seductively as she pushed against my chest to stand back up. She pulled out a pen from the pocket protector and dropped it on the floor behind her. "Oops."
Layna pivoted on the balls of her feet until she was facing away from me, her ass right in front of my face.
"Looks like I dropped my pen, Professor," she purred. "I better pick it up."
She bent down without bending her knees and I watched that plaid skirt slide ever-so-slowly up until it was only covering half of her ass. She wasn't wearing any panties, leaving her glistening sex and tight rosebud inches from my face. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes briefly, and took in the intoxicating smell of her aroma. My cock was instantly and painfully hard.
