She stood in front of the mirror on my dresser and spread out tubes and jars of creams and moisturizers. She spent fifteen minutes systematically covering almost every inch of skin with something. I hid my amusement at the sheer complexity of it all.
“It feels kinda weird standing here without clothes,” she said as she dabbed white cream under her eyes, “but it makes things a lot simpler. I don’t have to avoid my lingerie or wait for my skin to dry before I put on pajamas.”
“I know what you mean,” I teased. “I have the same problem.”
“Funny, ha ha.” She gestured at the array of cosmetics. “I’m doing all this for you, you know. I want to look nice and feel nice and smell nice for you.”
“I’m not complaining,” I said. “I’m just… amazed.”
“Well, you can blame Sabrina. I really didn’t understand proper skincare until I met her.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.”
“Laugh all you like,” she said, “but you’ll thank me in ten years.”
“So… you think we’ll still be together in ten years?”
She blushed but then looked uncertain. “Don’t you?”
I moved behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. They were soft, I had to admit. I looked at her in the mirror. Then I looked at the two of us.
“I still have a lot to tell you,” I said. “About myself.”
“Well, I haven’t run away so far.”
“That’s true. But some of the things might be… pretty hard to get used to.”
“You won’t know till you try me.”
“I have tried you,” I said with a smile. “And I want more.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You still aren’t going to tell me?”
“All in good time.”
She met my eyes in the mirror and nodded. Then she borrowed from her father’s playbook: she visibly adjusted her attitude and smiled.
“At least you haven’t run away either,” she said. “Especially after comments like that last one.”
“What? The ten years thing?”
She nodded.
“No. I… I’ve been thinking the same thing. Not tonight, but in the back of my mind. It’s natural. ‘Is she The One?’”
“I’ve been wondering the same.”
“Have you decided?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It depends on what you have to tell me, I guess.”
“No kidding.”
“And… if I can work up the nerve to do what you want.”
“True. But we don’t have to rush. I mean, we’ve only been a couple for…
what? A month?”
“Yeah, but like you said, we’ve been dancing around it since we first met.”
“True.” I tried to remember when it was, exactly, and she read me
perfectly.
“September 3rd,” she said, “1981.”
My eyebrows tried to do a backflip. “Holy crap! You remember the date?”
“Of course. I’m bad with math, but I remember dates.” She beamed.
“Wren and I were late to Art History and you couldn’t stop staring at us. We thought you were cute. I drew you in my sketchbook that night. I even wrote the date so I’d remember.”
“For real?”
“Mmm hmm. I’ll show you sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
“I drew you a lot between then and now. Well, except for… you know.”
“When I was a jerk?”
“Right.”
“How about now?”
“What do you think? My sketchbook is full of you. And not just for the Replicant.”
“I wish I could draw people like you do.”
“You don’t have to. You drew me as a building.”
“I did, didn’t I?” I had a sudden, whimsical thought. “You should sculpt Mr. Big sometime.”
“Maybe I already have,” she said coyly.
My eyebrows did their acrobat thing.
“I’m kidding. But I’ve thought about it.”
“You have?”
“Of course.” She turned from the dresser and faced me. “I always draw or sculpt the things I like.”
“Good to know.”
“But you’re more than just a penis.” She caressed my chest. “I really like Mr. Big,” she said distractedly, “but he isn’t you. That’s why I wanted to do the Replicant first.”
I brushed her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Ten years might not be enough.”
“I know.” She stretched upward for a kiss.
“Are you ready for bed?”
“Bed or sleep?” she asked with a grin.
“Uh-oh. What have I gotten myself into?”
“Come to bed and find out.”
Wren and Christy went shopping the next day. Trip and I had to move our cars to let Wren back hers out. She used it so rarely that I sometimes forgot she had it.
He and I left a little later. He’d already done most of his Christmas shopping, but he wanted to buy some lingerie for Wren. I knew of a specialized boutique—I’d found it during the hunt for Christy’s Halloween dress—so we went there first. We probably shouldn’t have been surprised to run into the girls, or that they were carrying bags filled with purchases.
“See, I told you,” Christy said to Wren.
“Told her what?” I asked.
“That you’d come here. You have excellent taste, if I do say so myself.”
“I do indeed.” I bent and kissed her.
We chatted for a few minutes and tried to peek at their purchases, but they fended us off easily.
“The saleslady knows what we like,” Christy said. “Just ask her what we were looking at.”
Trip gestured at all their bags. “Looks like you already bought half the store.”
“For your information, Mr. Penny-pincher, we left you plenty to choose from.”
“Hey, someone has to watch the budget around here,” he said. “It sure isn’t going to be you all.”
“And to think,” Christy said sweetly to Wren, “we bought these pretty things for their enjoyment.”
“Yeah, we should probably take ’em back.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, ever the peacemaker. “Let’s not do anything crazy. Everyone’s right in this case. Trip does a great job with the budget. I think we all agree.”
“We do,” Wren said as she slipped her arm around his waist and smiled up at him.
“And Trip, dude, the girls have their own money. Besides, Christy’s right… they’re buying all this stuff for us. Yeah, they like it too, but really…
comfortable bras and plain cotton underwear aren’t the least bit sexy. Well, they are,” I added, “but only on the bedroom floor.”
Christy rolled her eyes but grinned at me from under her lashes.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Trip said. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he added to Wren. “I go a little nuts around Christmas.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re forgiven.”
“So,” I said once the mood had lightened, “where’re you off to next?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Nosy Parker,” Christy said with an impudent grin.
“Ah well, it was worth a try.” I kissed her. “Have fun. Don’t spend too much. You don’t want your dad to have a heart attack when he sees your bank account.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. He already gave me a lecture about the plane ticket.” She looked chagrined. “I didn’t have enough money in my account or something.”
“Uh-oh. Birdy’s in the doghouse?”
“No,” she muttered. “But I’m on a short leash, he says.”
“Extra reason to watch what you spend,” I said. “Just pay attention.”
“I will.”
I hugged her and kissed the top of her head. Wren couldn’t help grinning at us.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I told her. “You were right.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Uh-uh. Not falling for it. Don’t you have more shopping to do?”