Invite Her Home

"You can't stay here all night," I say, shrugging off my coat and handing it to her. "You might as well come back with me and crash on my sofa."

Molly gratefully accepts my coat, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Thanks," she says, her teeth chattering. "I don't know what I would do if you weren't here."

I smile. "No problem. It's the least I can do after you've put up with all of my flakiness these past few months."

Before too long, my train, the last one of the night, arrives. And after 4 stops, it has given us a decent chance to warm up before braving the 20 minute walk to my flat.

As we walk, I can't help but sneak glances at Molly out of the corner of my eye. I have always had a huge crush on her, ever since we were in university together. But I never had the courage to tell her how I feel. I would rather be painful friends then nothing at all.

"So, how have you been?" I ask, trying to make conversation to take our minds off the cold. "I feel like we haven't really talked much since we moved away."

"I've been good," Molly says. "Just working a lot, you know how it is. Finally moved out of my parents place though." She grins. "How about you? How's life in the big city?"

"It's been hectic," I admit. "I love it, but it's definitely a change from small town life. I'm still trying to get the hang of everything."

We chat as we walk, the miles melting away as we catch up on everything that has happened since we last saw each other. I am so engrossed in our conversation that I don't even notice when we arrive at my house.

I fumble with the keys; my fingers numb from the cold. Finally, the door swings open, and we stumble inside, grateful to be out of the elements.

"Make yourself at home," I say, heading for the kitchen. "I'll see if I can rustle up a warm drink."

Molly follows me, pulling my coat off her shoulders. "Thanks again," she says again. "I really appreciate it."

I grin. "No problem. It's what friends are for, right?"

Molly nods, a smile spreading across her face. "Right."

Before long, we are settled on the sofa, 2 cups of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of us. We have a blanket over our laps and the TV is on, playing some old movie neither of us have ever heard of. I sit up, desperately trying to keep myself awake a little longer. My arm is around Molly's shoulder. Her head is against my shoulder, her body snuggled up against my side under the blanket.

The movie continues, and I can't honestly say I am paying attention to what is happening. Every so often I will hear Molly chuckle next to me, but I won't have heard the original joke. I will laugh along though; her laugh is contagious. I can hardly keep my eyes off her. I do my best to at least pretend to look at the TV but making sure she always stays in my peripheral vision. Other times though I catch myself moving my head to look at her, catching her eye and immediately looking away again. Under the cover of the blanket, I slightly readjust myself so nothing obvious is sticking out.

About halfway through the movie, I do notice Molly is no longer on my shoulder. With the blanket wrapped around her body and her head sticking out, she is more against my chest, every so often readjusting herself and each time ending up slightly further down until eventually, her head is in my lap. At first, I think she has fallen asleep but as I look down at her, her eyes are wide open, staring up at me.

Our eyes lock and I can feel my heart in my throat. Everything else in the world seems to shut itself out and all that exists to me was us. Her lips curl into a smile; a small nervous giggle escaping her mouth, and all I can feel is her head against my growing arousal.

I want to readjust myself, but there is no way to do it without it being obvious. Did she know it was there? How could she not? But she hadn’t seemed to react to it. Maybe she just it was the zipper of my jeans.

Suddenly, I feel her hand on my thigh, moving slowly up my leg sending shivers up my spine. My lips part slightly and her head shifts onto my other thigh as her hand reaches my groin. Her index finger and thumb begin to trace up the length of my bulge through my jeans causing me to gasp quietly. I look back down at her, seeing her beautiful blue eyes, and that cheeky grin.

Her hand reaches my tip, and her index finger draws a line slowly straight down the middle. I can hardly stop my leg from shaking, my mind racing but going nowhere. What is happening right now?