Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

As the Seasons Grey	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 261 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Started life as kinky Christmas-related short stories in 2022 and took on a life of its own shortly thereafter. 100 fiction, none of this is real, and I own nothing except for the character of Christine.

Chapter List
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Christine’s hair dripped wet with the rainwater and yet she worried about soaking the warm dry interior of his car. Alex shook his head about outside of the car, like that of a dog, to rid of the extraneous water from his jet-black hair: once inside, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“Wow,” he breathed.
“I know,” she said, and she pulled her hands back from the dashboard as if she had been burned. Indeed, she noticed the streaks of water in the dashboard as well as the lid of the glove box as well as the small puddles on the rubber floor mat underneath her feet. “Oh, Jesus.”
“It’s nothing a towel can’t mop up,” he assured her. “It’s okay, it’s just water and I’m soaking wet, too. Besides, I’ve got to clean the inside of this thing, anyway. Scrub it down and take a vacuum to it…”
Christine flattened the hair at the crown of her head: a few drops of water dripped down the side of her face and onto the side of her neck. Alex let out a low whistle and picked up the keys from the center console between them.
“God, I cannot believe that thing just collapsed right there on top of you!” he declared before he stuck the key into the ignition.
“You’re telling me!” Christine declared. “I saw the holes near the entrance but I thought for sure it would hold up. I hit the buzzer and got no reply. Next thing I know, the whole thing is crashing down on top of me.”
He fired up the car, which in turn switched the heater on over Christine’s face. She shivered from the sudden feeling of warmth on her wet skin.
“At least it was just water, though,” he reassured her. “Again, it’s nothing I can’t take a towel to.”
“I’m cold,” she blurted out.
“Oh, jeez—” He turned down the dial on the heater, and she shivered some more. “Let’s get you back to my place. It’s just right over here on the next block…” His voice trailed off as they rolled along the rain-soaked street before them to the next corner. The cold feeling of the rain water only added to the deep chill within Christine’s body. She glanced down at the teddy bear that he had won for her, and she moved her arm away from the crown of its head to keep it from growing wet as well. They reached the corner up ahead and then he hung a left: all the while, she tried to not lean over to the left side to make anything else wet.
“You’re more anal than I am,” he remarked as they reached the next corner for another left.
“I’ve been told I’m bit of a handful,” she confessed to him with a shrug.
“You’re just careful is all,” he told her. “I’m the same person.”
“It’s also left over from being anorexic for a long time,” she clarified. “Where being an alcoholic has to do with using to cope with life, anorexia is being so aware of life that you freeze up and you feel that there’s very little you can actually do.”
“Wow.” They pulled up to the curb before the front of the apartments across the street, but Alex didn’t seem to mind, especially since the curb on the other side, right in front of his front step. “Crazy to think that you struggled with that,” he remarked as he switched off the engine.
“And for as long as I did, too,” she added. “My entire teenage life was marred by it. And then I pretty much spent my twenties recovering from it and gaining the confidence I should have had from the get-go.”
“Would you like to tell me the story?” he asked her. “I know, we’re dripping wet and cold but I’m kind of curious now. I want to know about this.”
“You sure? It’s pretty long and complex. And…” She shuddered once again. “I really want to go inside.”
“Yeah, we can do that.” He then showed her a pensive look, complete with a knitting of his eyebrows and a slight frown. “You know, I kind of had a feeling that you had some blues in you, some sort of insurmountable pain that’s difficult to properly put into words. Like, there is something behind that cool demeanor.”
“You don’t do what I do and not at the very least have a couple of screws loose.” She returned the thoughtful look back at him, and he raised his eyebrows at that.
“I like the way you think,” he told her in a soft voice. “Come on. Let’s go inside before we catch a cold.”
“Dodge through the raindrops, as my grandma would say,” she joked, and he chuckled at that.
Indeed, when they stepped outside of the car, and Alex offered to help Christine carry her things inside, the rain seemed to fall down harder over their heads. She shuddered even more once they reached the front step: Alex wiped the extraneous water from his eyes before he unlocked the door. He pushed it open with his knee and almost fell ass over teakettle inside: Christine followed suit and shut the door behind her. Alex gathered himself and set the teddy bear on the couch, right underneath the lamp.
He then peeled off his jacket and she did as well. He showed her a smile.
“It’s like a wet T-shirt contest,” he joked, and she laughed out loud at that. “Would you like a shower?”
“I don’t have any clean clothes with me, though,” she pointed out.
“I have clothes you can wear,” he assured her as he kicked off his shoes: despite the drenching, his socks were still bone-dry.
“You do?”
“Yeah! I have to get something to drink first, though—I’m dying of thirst.”
“Take your time, take your time,” she advised him. “We’re back in the warmth, after all.” Once he stepped back into the kitchen, she peeled off her blouse. The warmth of the apartment caressed over her cold skin, and she finally felt warm after spending all that time outside in the rain. It was so strange standing there in the middle of the hard wooden floor with her shirt before her body such as that.
Keeping the shirt before her body, Christine strode over to the doorway of the kitchen to find him there with a glass filled with ice as well as what looked to be cranberry juice before him: a bottle of vodka stood off to his left there on the counter.
“A little bit of booze already?” she asked him as he unscrewed the cap from the bottle and poured a little bit into the glass. “She hasn’t showed up yet.” He chuckled at that, and then he screwed the cap back onto the bottle.
“We’ll relocate to Staten Island if that happens to happen,” he assured her as he stirred the ungarnished Cape Cod with a red straw there on the table.
“Staten Island, not Rhode Island?” she asked him, and he still hadn’t looked over at her.
“If we go to Rhode Island, we can’t really go back.”
“Sure we can. She’s an architect, right? She knows the city back and forth, up and down, doesn’t she?”
“I would think she does,” he said as he scratched his chin. He picked up the glass from the counter and held it to his lips and yet he hesitated to take a drink.
“If we go to Staten Island, I’m sure she would know where to look,” she pointed out. “If we go to the backwoods of Rhode Island and then disappear in say, Providence, she wouldn’t know.”
“I really like the way you think, my strawberry girl,” he said with a sly smirk. “We go to Providence and then we disappear into Boston or Cambridge. Just go all over New England and vanish into thin air like a couple of thieves in the night.” He downed the glass of juice with his eyes closed, and then he set the glass down on the counter and rubbed his hands together. “Now, the shirt that I had in mind for you…”
Christine held her wet shirt before her chest as he skirted past her to his bedroom. She peered around her at the rest of the tiny kitchen: wild to think that Captain Howdy had barged in there at one point and pitched a fit with him as there was barely any room for herself as well as him. She must have been rather small and slight in comparison to Christine’s heavier, fuller figure.
She could feel water dripping down onto the tops of her feet, and she hurried out of there to the bathroom: Alex meanwhile rummaged through his closet on the other side of the hallway. Christine slung the wet shirt over the shower curtain rod, and all the while, he never noticed her without a top.
He returned to the bathroom with a white shirt with black sleeves as well as a clean dark blue towel in hand.
“I haven’t worn this shirt in a while, but it’s clean, though,” he told her as he handed it to her. She reached behind her for it and then held it by the shoulders and unfurled it to show off the Sepultura logo on the front.
“Adorable,” he told her with a mischievous smirk. “It’ll look really cute with your bare legs. Also, there are fresh bottles of shampoo and conditioner in the cupboard here under the sink that you-know-who hasn’t even opened. He then rubbed his hands together. “I’ll order us some Chinese in the meantime.”
“Take your time,” she told him again, and he bowed out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. All the while, he still never noticed her nearly bare body, nearly bare save for her bra. But she knew that she would have another chance as she switched on the water and climbed into the bathtub once it was warm enough.
She bowed her head and closed her eyes as she let the warm water cascade over her. It felt so right to be showering in his bathroom, and all with the certain possibility that Captain Howdy had in fact been in there before her. It also felt right to be using his soap as well as those bottles that were supposed to be for her, and yet she never touched them one time. The sweet, earthy smell of oatmeal mixed with that milky white cream washed over her hair in such a way that it made her toes curl into the bath mat.
Once she had rinsed it all away, she turned off the water and reached for the towel on the rung and dried off her body first. She then reached for the shirt and slipped it over her wet head: the sleeves and the bottom fit perfectly, but the chest was tight around her bare breasts.
The whole time, he never paid any attention to the fact that she was topless.
She took off the shirt and wrapped the towel around her hips. She then walked out of there with it in hand. She walked along the hard wood to the kitchen, where he had taken his seat at the table with his Cape Cod as well as a book. He had changed out of his wet clothes and put on a soft royal blue bathrobe.
“Alex?”
He lifted his head and raised his eyebrows at the sight of her bare breasts out in the open.
“This shirt doesn’t fit,” she told him. “It’s a little too snug on my chest.”
He swallowed and shifted his weight in the chair. “I should’ve known.”
Christine stood there with the towel around her full waist and her creamy bare breasts fully exposed all for him. He bowed his head a bit and swallowed. She spotted the soft blush to his face all the while.
“This is… this is kind of nice,” he breathed.
“It really is,” she said as she stepped on closer to him. She stood next to him there at the table with one hand down on her hip to keep the towel closed and her other holding onto the shirt.
“This is kind of… intimate. I take that back, it’s really intimate. I’m feeling a wall of sorts come down.” He then gasped as he took a look down at the towel around her hips. “You’re naked in my apartment.”
“We should make love, you big round sexy man, you—” Christine was cut off by a knock on the door.
“Is that the food?” she asked him, taken aback.
“No, I got off the phone with them not even a minute ago,” he told her. Her heart sank.
“Closet?” she asked him.
“Closet. Do not make a sound, either. It’s a good thing I’m wearing my robe, too—I don’t know how else I would explain the wet bathroom.”
Christine held the shirt close to her chest as she padded back to his bedroom to hide out in the closet. No sooner had she slid the door closed when she heard her voice down the hall. She closed her eyes and tried to not think of her doing anything awful to him, or worse: going down on Alex.
“Why do you lie?” she demanded, and it sounded as though they stood right outside of the door.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Why do you lie to your wife-to-be?” Christine gaped at that. “I am going to be your wife, why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not lying to you, I swear,” Alex assured her.
“You got the full-time tenure, didn’t you?”
Brief silence.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I didn’t get it. I’m still waiting to hear back from them, too.”
Another brief silence.
“Consider our wedding off, then,” she sneered. Christine closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall. She kept her hands pressed to her bare breasts even though she had the darkness and safety of the closet all around her.
“Don’t say that,” Alex said.
“You promised!” she insisted. “You promised that if you got the job, you’d set money aside for the wedding.”
He fetched up a sigh. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I.” Nothing could deny the grave tone to his voice. Christine opened her eyes, and she noticed the hourglass dark shape tucked there in the corner before her. Careful not to make any noise, she leaned in closer for a better look. Through the dim light, she made out the fine gloss to the six strings.
A thick dark guitar with nylon strings, much like the guitar he used in Mr. Hansen’s class.
Captain Howdy said something, which was then followed by the front door closing. Silence ensued for a moment, and Christine knew that the coast was clear from thence forth. She held onto the guitar by the neck and stuck it outside of the closet first as a means of making sure everything was clear.
As far as she knew, Alex had just left the apartment.
But she climbed out of the closet with the shirt over her shoulder and the towel still wrapped around her hips. She picked up the guitar and strode on out to the hallway. The front of the apartment was empty, but she spotted him there at the table, still with the Cape Cod in hand and with a look on his face as if he had just seen a ghost.
“There better be a heaven,” she heard him say. He raised his gaze to her as well as the guitar in her hand. “Is that my guitar?”
“I found it in the back of the closet,” she explained.
“I put it there for a reason,” he told her, and he sighed yet again before he took another drink from the glass.
“What happened,” she started, and she took her seat next to him there at the kitchen table and leaned the guitar against the leg of the chair: her bare breasts hung out in all their full glory. “What did she do.” Alex nibbled on his bottom lip as he lowered his gaze to her chest. Christine knew what he was thinking, especially since it was getting late again.
“More like what I didn’t do,” he corrected her in a low voice. She cleared her throat and folded her hands over her waist.
“Okay. What didn’t you do?”
“Plan our wedding,” he replied without a second thought. “I promised her that there would be money for the ceremony, like a nest egg of sorts, and… and—well…” He shrugged his shoulders.
“You didn’t even do it,” Christine followed along, and she tried her best to stifle her own laughter.
“Nope. Didn’t even attempt it.”
“Why don’t you just tell her the truth? Tell her it’s over.” He raised his eyebrows at that.
“Oh, man. You should really see her lose her temper. That night she was here when you were? That’s nothing. I did that once before, I’m not even going to think about doing it again.”
“Like opening the gates of hell?”
“I half-expected her to put a gun right to my head and pull the trigger.” Christine gaped at him.
“That bad?”
“That bad. It’s one of two reasons why I haven’t broken it off from her. The other being—”
“You still kind of love her,” she followed along. “You still love her and yet you’re also terrified of her.”
“Completely terrified, actually.” He closed his eyes as he downed the rest of the Cape Cod, and he set the glass down on the table before him.
“You know, I promised her a Jewish wedding,” he said with a shake of his head. “With the milk carton under my foot and us paraded around up on the chairs and everything.” He shook his head. “I’m such a damn fool.”
“Don’t,” she encouraged him. “Don’t. You’re a sweet guy and yet sometimes life just doesn’t go the way you want it to even with the promises that you make. It doesn’t take someone who has struggled with her weight most of her life to tell you this, either.” She leaned over to touch the back of his hand. He gazed on at her breasts and showed her a smile.
“You weren’t kidding, you are a handful,” he remarked.
“I wish I knew how you feel about me,” she confessed. Alex raised his head for a better look at her, and albeit with a wistful expression on his face. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle with the light of the fluorescence overhead, like little tide pools under the morning sun on the coast. Christine held still and showed off her bare upper body to him, bare even lined with the towel around her waist. But he locked eyes with her for a good long time.
To think that she had had her bare belly pressed against his back there, back before Captain Howdy showed up.
“I can’t even begin to say how much I love you,” he told her in that low, husky voice, and she gaped at him. “I wish I could run away with you to somewhere far away, be it Monterey or San Francisco or even Rhode Island. I would love nothing more than to escape with you, Christine. My strawberry girl…” His voice trailed off as he looked down at her breasts once more. He nibbled on his bottom lip at the sight of her nipples, slightly dark and tightened up by the feeling of the air in the apartment. Another knock on the door nearly knocked her out of her chair and onto the floor.
“Now, that’s the food,” he promised her.
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As the Seasons Grey