Chapter 11

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” April said, cuddling with you on the bed. “At least for a while. The assistant they assigned me said they’d come around 9 AM.”

“I wish I could stay,” you said. You were propped up on the plush pillows, both of your waists and lower under the sheets. April had cleaned herself up a little, and you’d slipped into the bathroom as well to at least wipe the sweat off of yourself before she’d summoned you to the bed. Now she was resting her head against your shoulder much like Hannah often did, except that April’s glorious tits were bare.

And the two of you had done it.

Sex, the final frontier.

“You work tomorrow though,” April guessed, and you nodded.

The two of you held each other for a long moment of comfortable silence.

“What now?” you asked.

“You mean what happens after you leave this bed?”

“I mean, do you want to keep seeing me? Because - and maybe I’m breaking the rules of dating or something by not waiting three days - but I want to see you again. I want to keep seeing you. Dating. And ... this.”

April chuckled. “You want to fuck me? Over and over?”

“God, yes,” you laughed.

“I want to keep seeing you too,” April said. Then she sat up and turned, sitting with her legs crossed under her as she looked at you intently and held your hand in both of hers. “I wasn’t teasing you earlier, or just trying to get at your mammoth cock, Ollie. You really did sweep me off my feet with our date. I’m ready to see what a relationship with you would be like.”

“But how would that work?” you asked. “Long distance?”

April quirked an eyebrow. “Where do you think I live?”

You blinked and then sighed. “I guess I just assumed you lived in Los Angeles, or near it, since you do all of your voice-over work.”

April smiled. “Sometimes I’m there for up to a few weeks at a time,” she said. “But I grew up here, and when I’m not off doing a voice-over gig I crash at my parent’s place out in the suburbs. So sometimes I’m in LA, or Montreal, or Vancouver, or New York. But at least half the time I’m here, curled up at home.”

“Please tell me your room isn’t in the basement,” you chuckled.

“No, I’m not a basement-dwelling nerd,” she giggled, then changed her voice to a lower, raspy one. “How do you kill that which has no life?”

You snorted at the South Park reference. “God, you’re the perfect woman.”

“And you’re the perfect man,” she said, then she bit her lip and grinned. “And I want to prove to you that I’m for real about wanting to be your girlfriend because I know when you get home you’ll be pinching yourself and asking if this is real because you don’t think you deserve it.” She scrambled out from under the covers and walked, naked, out to the little sitting area of the suite and returned with her phone. She crawled up the bed and pulled the sheets down from your waist, revealing your cock. She gave it a little kiss and smirked up at you, then rolled over onto her back between your legs and laid her head down on your hip. She moved your flaccid cock so that it was resting over her shoulder and lifted her phone, taking a picture of herself with your cock. Then she rolled back onto her stomach and sucked the head into her mouth, and took another picture of herself like that.