"Come here often?" Johannes asked when I walked in the room.
"Oh, all the time. I sleep here, don't you know that?"
"So I'm in your bedroom right now?"
I winked at him. "Sure are, Romeo."
I set my bag down and organized my Petri dishes. The jars were sitting right where I'd left them, and I unscrewed the unsorted jar.
"So," he said, "I've been thinking."
"Never a good sign."
He rolled his eyes. "Would you like to come watch a movie with me Friday night? I'll make dinner."
"Dinner and a movie? Sounds great."
"Excellent."
The scanner beeped, letting us know someone else was coming in. He went back to work, and I busied myself with my flies.
Friday night found me cruising the streets of Alexandria, trying to find a turn that Google Maps insisted existed. Eventually I pulled into a driveway and called him.
He answered on the first ring. "Hallo."
"Hey. I'm, uh, a little turned around."
He laughed, but it wasn't mean. "Where are you?"
"Um..." I craned to see the street signs at the intersection. "Russell and Glebe?"
"You're almost here. Turn east on Glebe, then south on Mount Vernon, and then east on Bellefort. I'm the fourth house on the left."
"Thank you."
"Of course. See you soon."
"Bye."
Google had been trying to get me to turn directly onto Bellefort. Idiot computers. Now that I knew how to get to Bellefort, it only took me five minutes to arrive. Johannes had the door open before I got out of the car.
"Made it here okay," he said.
"Yeah. No thanks to the stupid GPS."
He laughed. "Someone's grumpy. Come on in - I made chicken stew."
"Sounds good."
He closed the door behind me. "Shoes off, please? This way," he said, taking my hand. Goosebumps raised on my arms at his touch as he led me down the hallway. "What movie would you like to watch? I've got Netflix."
"I'm easy. Just no horror, okay?"
"No horror," he promised, turning into the kitchen.
When he'd ladled out piping-hot stew into two bowls, he led me to the living room. "So. Movies. I'm in the mood for comedy, what about you?"
"Comedy sounds good." I blew on a spoonful of stew.
"Ever seen 'How to be a Serial Killer'?"
"Yes! It's one of my favorites."
He smirked. "That doesn't surprise me."
I blew on the stew again. "What can I say? I like what I like."
"I've been debating watching it for a while."
"You should. It's a good movie. Weird, but good."
He nodded and pressed a few buttons. "Netflix...search..." he muttered, "how...to...be...a...serial...killer. Ah, there it is."
For the first half hour or so, we watched the movie and ate our slowly-cooling stew. When we were done eating, he put his arm around me. I curled my feet underneath me and leaned into him. He tightened his arm, and I kissed his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek - and then, when he turned his head to look down at me, his lips.
Damn, I'd forgotten how good he was at kissing. Heat jumped between us, sparking warmth in my lower belly. He pulled me closer, crushing my breasts against his side, and then muttered,
"Godverdomme,"
grabbed my leg, and hauled me into his lap so I was straddling him. I could feel his dick, rock-hard underneath his jeans. His hands moved to cup my ass, kneading it through the fabric of my pants.
He groaned and broke the kiss. "If you want to keep going," he said, pupils blown wide, "we're moving to a bed."
I slid off his lap. "Then let's go."
He didn't bother turning off the movie; he just stood up, grabbed my wrist, and towed me to the bedroom. His queen-sized bed was neatly made with a cream-colored comforter, and the top of his dresser was almost obsessively neat, but I barely noticed that, focused as I was on Johannes. He stopped at the foot of the bed and kissed me again, grabbing the hem of my blouse and pulling it up. In an admirable show of restraint, I let him take it all the way off before I started undoing the buttons on his own shirt.
When I'd gotten it unbuttoned, he shrugged it off his shoulders and unhooked my bra. My breasts spilled out, gravity pulling them down. He was already on to pulling down my pants, but when I reached to undo his belt, he grabbed my hands.
"I told you," he said. "I want to take you apart with my tongue."
"You already are," I said, standing on my toes to kiss him again.
He turned his chin up, keeping me from reaching him. "I haven't even touched you yet," he said. "And I bet you taste amazing."
I groaned and rested my head on his chest. "You're going to kill me," I muttered.
He let go of my hands and hooked his thumbs around the waistband of my slacks. "It'll be fun, though."