A sassy cock-tease

I let Alison know my decision that night at dinner. We spent the day apart, each doing our own thing, but by the time I had finished cooking dinner I decided that there is no harm in accepting Alison's challenge. We eat quietly for a while, the normally chatty tenant seems content to wait for me, and as I finish the last bit of chicken I finally break the silence.

“So I've been thinking about what you asked me about this morning.” Alison's big eyes light up and she dabs her mouth carefully hiding the smile that I know must be on her lips. “I know who I want, I'm just not sure about all the details.”

“That's alright, Mr. P, we have all week to work that out.” She sets the napkin down on the table and folds her hands neatly waiting for me to announce my decision.

“You know those popular girls that always have teasing smiles on their faces,” I ask carefully. “The ones that always seem to think they're better than you?”

“Oh yeah, Mr. P, that's a good choice!” Alison looks as excited by this choice as I am, “Does she tease all the boys, or just her teachers?”

“Oh, I bet she teases everyone that's not in her little clique.” Alison nods in agreement, and for the rest of the dinner she chats about her upcoming school week and how bad the Covid pandemic is getting.

“Wesleyan has cancelled just about everything, Mr. P, and they're talking about sending students home for Thanksgiving and not having us come back until January.” I had heard similar reports around town, but hadn't really given much thought until I realized that this arrangement that I had worked out might be over in just a couple months.

“That stinks.” I find the thought of living alone to be disquieting, and Alison seems to pick up on my change in tone.

“Would you miss me?” Her eyes look into mine without their usual sparkle.

“Yes, I'm pretty sure I would, Angel.” I surprised myself with my openness. Usually, in a situation like this, I'd make some stupid wise-crack instead of straightforward honestly. She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand with hers.

“I'd miss you too, Mr. P.” There is no mention of our arrangement. I wonder how much of what we'd be missing is the raw sex, and how much is sharing meals like this and our quiet evenings together. “I've got some work to do, Mr. P,” she smiles mischievously as she pushes back from the table, “if I want to be ready for tomorrow.”

As I put the dishes in the dishwasher and wipe down the table, I try to figure out what she could possibly have to do to get ready for a Sunday. I've learned to read her pretty well this past month, and her smile as she walked away made me wonder what the young woman was up to. The evening passes quietly, but after how little sleep I got last night, it is probably just as well and I head to bed even before Don Lemon starts his yammering.