sixty-eight: morning after

Dearest Readers: I pulled a Charlotte, and I'm in Chicago for the holiday (in this case, Thanksgiving), so please forgive any delay in/lack of chapters for a while. I still plan on writing, but I don't how much I'll get done. I love you all, and I know you'll be here when I return... just perhaps disgruntled. :P Have a lovely Thanksgiving to my Americans!



The rest of the night passes by with little other interference. Will and Frank wisely keep their distance and stay by their wives' sides. I guess it's payback, though, because I had interrupted them plenty of times growing up, when they were teenagers bringing their girlfriends home and sneaking them up to their bedrooms when they were supposed to be babysitting me.

When we walk back into the living room after having been so rudely interrupted by my brother, Frank bursts into laughter. Stupid brothers. I shoot him an angry glance. Charlotte squeezes my hand and bumps and nudges me with her shoulder. I look down at her to see her smiling up at me.

"They're just having some fun with you," she says.

"I don't think it's funny," I reply, but I'm not offended. That's my family for you. Crazy, but you can't be mad at them.

"Come on, not even a little?" she chuckles.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her against me in a one-armed hug. "No, not even a little." I kiss the top of her head. Then I think about what she said, and I pull back and give her a puzzled look. "How is it that you're sticking up for my brothers, over me? That can't be."

Charlotte laughs again. "Hey, they're going to be my brothers now, too."

As the night progresses, a lot more wine and other types of alcohol are imbibed, and the traveling finally catches up with my family. Flower and Véro leave, congratulating us once more, and then my family begins quieting and retiring for the night. They yawn and head off for whichever room or sleeping arrangements. It's none too soon when I get Charlotte alone again, back up in my room with the door locked, and I have no intention to answer it no matter who may come a-knockin'.

Her mouth tastes of brownies and red wine, a delicious combination that has got me intoxicated. Besides how much I've already had to drink. As good as her mouth tastes, I want to taste the rest of her, too.

As soon as her mouth is free, her speech comes out slurred. "Max. Oh God, Max. I need you... I need you to take me home. Ugh, but don't stop."

"I'm a lil busy right now," I tell her, unzipping her dress again. This better be the last time I have to take this damn dress off her tonight. Drunk sex is better than no sex.

"I have to work in the morning," she says. Charlotte's giving me all the reasons I need to take her home, but her uncoordinated hands fumble with the button of my jeans. She doesn't want to stop, either.

"Then I'll take you home in the morning. Problem solved."

She slips out of one of her heels and then teeters, unbalanced, until she falls back on the bed and giggles. I take advantage of her new position and crawl on top of her. I pull the straps of her dress down, and she takes her arms out so I can push the top of her dress down to her waist and touch her naked tits. I pinch her nipples, and she closes her eyes and licks her lips. She moans, wiggles beneath me, and then admits, "I'm drunk."

"Yes, you are. And you're useless when you're drunk," I tell her as she continues to fumble with my pants.

"I am, aren't I?" she giggles again drunkenly, still making no progress on undressing me. It's killing me that we're going nowhere. My cock is pressing against the restrictive denim, begging to be freed.

Finally, I bat her hands away so I can do it myself—because that's the only way it's going to get done. "It’s okay. I love you anyway."

"I love you, too, Max-A-Million. Make love to me. L'amour... avec moi? Oh fuck. Just do me," she mumbles, hiking up her skirt to her waist and then pulling her panties down for me.

By the time I kick off my pants and rip off my shirt, popping off several buttons in the process, there's a soft rap on the door. Not again. I intend to ignore it when my mother calls out, "Bonne nuit, Maxime! Bonne nuit, Charlotte!"

I holler out an answer quickly as I untangle her panties from her ankles and spread her legs so I can fit between them. "Bonne nuit, Maman! À demain!"

"Bonne nuit, Madame Talbot!" Charlotte squeaks out. She covers her face in her hands in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. Her moods swing so quickly when she's tipsy. "Your mother knows we're having sex."

"So?" I ask, not getting her point. "Do you think she thinks I'm a virgin?"

"No, she knows we're having sex now," she groans, trying to roll away from me. "The mood is ruined."

I reach down with my left hand and pin down her hips against the bed, and with my right hand I roughly push two fingers inside of her, and then I rub her clit with my thumb. She makes an odd noise that sounds like a moan and a gasp at the same time. I nuzzle her neck as I move my hand and say, "Do you still think the mood's ruined?"

Charlotte moans loudly again and then replies with a low voice, "They're going to hear. Tu familia.... Shit, that's Spanish," she giggles, still finding humor in the situation because she's drunk. "Your family will hear us."

"They'd better hear you," I say, thrusting my hand a little harder to make her gasp again. Charlotte grabs the sheets and contorts her body. "My brothers won't let me live it down if I can't make you scream."

"You and your brothers." She laughs again, and I think that I don't want them to hear that. They should be expecting to hear moans and grunts and affirmations and my name repeated over and over again.

Instead of trying to reason with her—because you can't reason with a drunk person—I roll her over onto her stomach. Instinctively, she gets up on her knees and grabs the headboard, and then she casts a glance at me over her shoulder. She bites her bottom lip and sticks her ass out; I grab her hips and slam into her from behind. Charlotte pushes back against me and meets me thrust for thrust. The bed slams into the wall, but those thuds are drowned out by the sounds of her encouragement.
______________________________________________________

Max wakes me up early enough in the morning that I can minimize my embarrassment by not having to see his entire family first thing in the morning. I slip into a pair of his sweats and an old tee shirt as we tip-toe down the stairs. We try to suppress our laughter at having to sneak around like teenager lovers so as to not wake up his family. I don't think I'd be able to face them after last night.

I have a headache after consuming all that wine and sugar last night, and I need to hurry and get home so I can get ready for work. That's why on weekdays, Max usually would stay over at my place, and weekends were spent at his. However, last night threw a wrench into our usual routine. It's okay, though; I wouldn't change a single detail about last night.

Much to my dismay, Max and I sneak downstairs only to find that we aren't the only people awake in the house. Francis is feeding the baby, and Lucie is searching the kitchen cabinets to find coffee and filters. I blush feverishly, immediately trying to find a way to slip out of the house unnoticed, but Frank spots us and comments before I can execute the escape plan.

"Bon matin," he greets with a smirk. "Aren't you two tired after your performance last night?"

"Who was performing?" Max asks. "Everything you heard last night was authentic."

I groan and feel my face redden. At least they said all that in English, so the innocent Mrs. Talbot wouldn't be able to understand that. To help her, and also to take some of the fun out of their raunchy comments by ignoring them, I leave them to their conversation and open one of the cupboards, pulling down the filters and bag of Starbucks ground coffee for Max's mother. After all, I know his kitchen like the back of my hand because I'm here so often.

"Ah. Merci." Lucie reaches out and grabs my face, kissing both of my cheeks for the thousandth time since I met her. She doesn't let go as she looks at Francis for a moment. "Welcome to... our family." She smiles, so proud of herself.

I smile, too, and get a little teary-eyed. I can't help it; Mrs. Talbot and the rest of Max's family have been so wonderful. They're nothing at all like my own; although I know that my family is crazy and dysfunctional and most families aren't that way, I've never known anything else. It feels like an honor and a privilege to have them usher me into their clan and treat me so well.

Lucie hugs me as she cries a little herself. Max laughs and shakes his head at us. "Femmes. Ils ne font que pleurer."

When she releases me, I smack the back of Max's head. He rubs it and scowls at me, feigning anger. Francis and Lucie chuckle as I reprimand him. "I don't know what you said, but it's not funny to talk about your mother. Or me, for that matter."

"Yes, dear," he sighs jokingly, and I hold up a finger to warn him against such facetious comments. Max tells them that I have to leave, and I hug each of them again, kiss little Paul's forehead, and wish them all a happy Christmas before Max drives me back to my cold and quiet apartment.

"Have a wonderful time at home in Montréal," I say, kissing him once more. "I'll see you when we're all back in Pittsburgh."

"You, too. I mean, have a good time with your family in Chicago."

I nod and slide out of his car, standing on the sidewalk as I watch him drive away. The idea of returning to my childhood home in Illinois is less than thrilling. It's going to be a miserable seventy-two hours with my family after getting a glimpse into a real happy holiday gathering. I hope that once Max and I are married, I'll never have to go back to Chicago to see my family again. Certainly never have to go back alone.

In the apartment, I find that Gina's awake, although barely. "Where have you been?" she asks groggily, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "I thought you were going to be back after Max's party?"

"Oh, well, it wasn't a party for his teammates, like he said. He invited his family down for today's game, and they showed up last night. So, I got to meet his family."

She smiles. "How did it go? Better than him meeting Mommie Dearest, I guess?"

"Oh, infinitely better. They're so wonderful. They made me feel like I've been part of their family forever, even though we could barely communicate. They're just good people," I answer, reaching up to scratch my forehead with my left hand.

Gina freaks. "Oh my God. Oh my God!" She grabs my hand and yanks it toward her with such force that I jerk forward. "Is this what it looks like?"

I chuckle. "Oh yeah. I almost forgot about the part where he asked me to marry him."

Her eyes are as wide as saucers. "And what did you say?"

"Obviously I said 'yes,'" I laugh. "I wouldn't be wearing the ring otherwise."

She squeals and dances in place. "Oh my God! Congratulations! This is great news!"

Gina's reaction continues to amuse me as she clutches me and jumps a little. I think she's more excited than I was. Of course, it is great news. I'm ecstatic, too, but I'm also a little hesitant about having to share my great news with my family and especially my mother. I don't know how well she'll take it. She seemed to like Max after our excursion out for lunch when she visited, but she still has a soft spot in her heart for John. My Christmas trip home is about to get a whole lot more complicated.