Hello, again! Nice of you to come back! As you can see, I've used the story same title for each chapter of the story. Much easier to find, isn't it? Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed reading about poor Michelle's adventures so far. I know I enjoy writing them (with a little help from my friend, Matt), so take a seat and read on.
Chapter 2: Queen of the Underworld. . . Finally
Dad and I sit in the hard plastic seats of the stadium, cheering the teams on with the rest of the crowd. It's a beautiful October afternoon, and dad's scored some prize tickets to postseason game. It's the Padres versus the Astros, and the Astros are getting crushed. The stadium is huge; it's packed to capacity and people are going nuts over every play. Even the announcer is hyper today.
I've got a hot dog in one hand and a Coke in the other, alternating between watching the game and inhaling my food. Dad's opted for a cold beer and a plate of nachos. We watch the game closely, waiting for that magical moment when the underdog rises from the ashes and dropkicks the winning team.
I love this. It's the only time I get to spend some quality time with my dad. Usually, he's out of town on business, but he makes up for it every month by taking me to games and trying to beat me at air hockey. For a businessman, I've got a freaking awesome dad.
I turn to smile at him. He's beaten me to the punch, grinning at me with his signature smile and warm hazel eyes. My eyes. I smile back through a mouthful of hotdog, excited and relieved to be here. We're alone for a few precious hours. Just us and the teams fighting for our attention. It's a rare treat.
There's a crack down in the field. As we've guessed, the Astros are starting to gain ground. It's only the sixth inning. They still have time to catch up...
Cool fingers brush my shoulder. Warm breath tickles my ear.
"Michelle."
Dad's phone goes off. Hi's smile fades and he rolls his eyes as his fishes his blackberry from his pocket. His infamous scowl has arrived as he answers the phone.
"Yes?" He pauses. "Hello, honey."
I drop my head and scowl at the dirty stadium floor. Of course it's mom. Who else would call at four in the afternoon because she's feeling lonely? God, she's so needy! I'm surprised that she's even able to watch us walk out the door before having another false alarm.
"Yes, yes I know." Dad's as irritated as I am. "Lisa, we've talked about this. Michelle and I have one day a week where we get to hang out together. We'll be home in a couple of hours."
I set my food aside and cup my chin in my hands. I love my mom, I really do. I mean, she's my mom. But she has a fantastic ability to ruin every single good time I'm having with my dad. Today's interruption is especially irritating: dad's just come home from a business meeting in Boston, and it's our first father-daughter quality time in two months.
"Lisa, please calm down. This is a tradition we've had for years. Please don't ruin it for us."
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice dad has caught sight of me. He's seen my scowl, my eyes. He knows how upset I am. He's been dealing with mom's behavior since long before I was born. How he stands it, I'll never know.
Dada takes in a deep breath. "Lisa, I'm sorry! I'm not going to rush home and waste time I could be spending with our daughter on another one of your panic attacks. We'll see you at home!"
He disconnects the call and shuts his phone off, grinning at me. I'm smiling so wide my face should be splitting in two. He's managed to grow his spine back and shut mom's neediness down for the moment. I'm elated.
"What did she want?" I can't help but be curious.
He shrugs. "She said Mrs. Hoppen was harassing her again. Wanted me to come down and talk to the old lady."
I roll my eyes. "She does know that if she'd stop stealing all of her tomatoes, Mrs. Hoppen would stop complaining."
Dad gives a wicked smile. "Somehow, I don't think she cares."
"Michelle."
The fingers become more insistent, traveling down my shoulder and spinning teasing circles around my breasts. I groan and shift slightly, rolling onto my stomach so I can dream in peace.
There's another crack of the bat. The batter goes flying down the line, racing past the first baseman and rounding the corner to second.
"Why do you think-"
"Your mother complains about fighting with neighbors when she's the one who starts them? No idea, kiddo." Dad sighs and picks up another nacho. "It's something about your mother that's driven me nuts for years."
"Then why don't you get divorced?" The question comes out before I can stop myself. I'm horrified, and I clap my hand over my mouth and hang my head.
Dad's silent for a moment. "Is that what you want, Michelle?"
I'm almost in tears. "No. I'm sorry, I-"I can't even finish. I'm grounded for sure.
"Hey," Dad loops his arm over my shoulder. "It's okay, kiddo. I know what you're thinking."
"
Michelle.
" Those cool hands slide under my body and cup my breasts gently.
I groan softly. "What?"
Icy lips press against my neck. "Time to get up, my queen."
I groan louder and bury my face in the pillow. "Why? It's only eight."
Musical laughter echoes in my ears, wrapping around my mind and caressing it awake. "You only wish. It's nearly ten."
Ten? Shit.
Another chilled kiss brings me further into the waking world. "Believe me, I'd love to stay here in bed with you, my dear. But there are things that need to get done. The faster you get up, the faster we can do them, and the faster we can go beck to bed."
I give a muffled sigh. "Fine."
I roll over and push the thick blankets off my body. My body's still groggy, so my motions are slow and jerky. Still, I manage to wriggle out of my husband's enticing embrace and push myself up. I roll my neck, setting my vertebrae back into place.
I feel the bed shift behind me. Seconds later, Lucifer walks into my line of sight, smiling at me with bright eyes. I'm still slightly stunned by him; I don't think I'll ever get used to how he looks. He's just as beautiful as he was yesterday, all chiseled perfection and glowing splendor. I could be married to him for a thousand years and never stop being entranced by him.
"Let's get you dressed."
He walks over to an enormous carved oak armoire that's been pressed up against the far wall. He grips the twisted iron handles and flings the massive doors open, revealing endless racks of clothing inside. A menagerie of dresses and corsets line the inside, all of it silk, lace and leather. Fit for a queen of the damned, I suppose.
Lucifer starts rummaging through the forest of clothing, tossing elaborately tailored gowns and perfectly acceptable corsets aside. I sigh and push myself off the bed. He's never had a queen before, maybe not even a girlfriend, so having him dress me will most likely end in disaster. I need to intervene before he tries to clothe me like a cheap hooker. Or worse.
I slip off the bed and step lightly onto the tile floor. I take one step towards him and wince in pain. Fuck, I'm sore! All that magnificent sex last night rendered my body almost useless. Who knew losing your virginity like that could be so painful later? I bite my lip and straighten my spine. I have to fight through this. If I don't, my clothing choices will be reduced to nothing.
I take one tentative step after another, slowly but surely closing the distance between us. Finally, after many aching minutes, I stand just behind him, watching as he tosses more inadequate clothing aside. His wings shift slightly with every twist and turn of his shoulders, the muscles of his back flexing gloriously as he seeks out my attire for the day. A small spark ignites in my belly, and I have to clamp down on my cheek to stifle the burn.
Easy, tiger. Have patience.
"What are you looking for exactly?" I scan the growing piles of discarded clothing. "You're rejecting a lot of stuff."
He still, and turns to look at me. "Some thing appropriate for a queen."
I glance back at the piles of luxurious fabrics. "There's a lot here that could fall into that category."
