Resolutions, Part I

Resolutions

"Here's to a new year, full of laughs, love, and really great fucks!"

"CHEERS!"

It was hard not to laugh at the exuberance of her friends. Molly looked around the group of her old college sorority sisters, all of them dressed up and grinning happily, sipping on their celebratory margaritas. The toast was exactly what she had expected out of Caroline. She had been the...ahem...busiest girl in the sorority, and from what she had gathered from their regular reunion meals, that hadn't changed much. Caroline was an incredible force of feminine nature. One of the youngest CEOs in history, she had risen through the ranks at the financial consulting corporation she had started at right after college with a speed that defied logic. Then again, if she had used not only her brains but her undimmable beauty, not to mention a sex drive that wouldn't quit, it wouldn't surprise Molly. And honestly, good for her. It was hard for women to be successful in more powerful positions, as Molly well knew. She had been passed over for promotion more times than she could count in the hospital, and she was tired of it—but also too tired to fight. She just didn't have Caroline's spirit.

"Earth to Molly. Are you drunk already?"

Molly shook the thoughts from her mind, refocusing on the women in sequined and sleek dresses about her. "Not nearly enough."

Jennifer used the pitcher to refill Molly's half-empty class, but the woman's sharp eyes remained focused a bit too closely on her. Molly squirmed. A psychologist advisor for some of the biggest court cases in the country, Jennifer had a gift for reading people---or even reading through them. It had always seemed eerie, almost creepy, and would have been intolerable if Jennifer wasn't also a very caring person. Still, she didn't need Jennifer's speeches or analysis tonight. Molly almost hadn't come tonight, fearing she wouldn't be able to hide the secrets she needed to. She had to distract them, and quickly. She gulped at the intensely lime drink and motioned towards Emma. "How's the new house coming?"

Emma beamed. "Fantastic. I *finally* got the marble countertops I ordered, and they're fabulous. All I need is to finish some of the flooring in the upstairs and I'll be ready to start on the fun stuff, like programming the smart technology and getting the landscaping finished."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "This is the sixth house you've flipped with smart technology. Is it really that big of a seller in this area?"

Emma nodded. "You'd be surprised how many people are still in awe that they can control the lights, security system, temperature, and even jacuzzi with apps on their phones. You'd think we were in the rural fields of Wyoming instead of St. Louis. It's like Wi-Fi is still a huge achievement!"

Molly let out a soft sigh under her breath as Jennifer launched into one of her speeches about socio-economic status, wealth distribution, and countering Caroline's claims that technology was a great equalizer. Those two could philosophically talk Aristotle into a nervous breakdown—and at this rate, they'd be arguing back and forth through the remainder of the main course. All she had to do was keep her head down, stuff her face with fried ice cream, and she could be on her way home. To her quiet, dark, empty home. A stab of pain ripped through her middle, and she blinked hard. Don't think about it. Don't think about the half-empty closet, the furniture that was missing, the artwork she had so carefully shopped for that graced the walls of another home. HER home. Molly's throat tightened, and she struggled to swallow her bite of fajita. She had to calm down.

"Are you okay?"

Becca's words, a soft whisper in her ear, startled Molly. She jostled her drink, but smiled. "I'm just really, really tired."

"Did you work the late shift last night again?"

Molly nodded. "Sixteen hours on the swing ward. I had seven transferred from ICU and it was a complete and utter disaster all night."

Becca squeezed Molly's hand under the table. "I can only imagine. I'm so sorry. If you weren't feeling up to meeting us, you could have cancelled. We would have understood."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Caroline would have barged into my apartment, telling me she put off a meeting with the King of Some Country for us, and I could drag my sorry blue-collar ass into a restaurant."

Becca couldn't help the chuckle. "True. But she means well."

"I know." Molly sighed. "How are you and Greg doing?"

"We're okay. He's out of town for the week, doing some research up in the mountains. Honestly, it's nice to have a break sometimes. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that. Plus every time he goes away for this long, we make a point to spend his weekend back out somewhere. Camping, hiking, something together." Becca tapped her finger on Molly's arm. "When was the last time you took some time off from the hospital? Maybe a nice weekend out with Jason would be just the ticket. Make you exhausted from being in bed instead of putting patients in them." She gave a saucy wink, and Molly pasted a smile on her face, trying to ignore the growing churning in her stomach.

"I'll think about it."

Becca gave her a teasing look. "Don't just think about it. Girl, take that toast and run with it. Nurses work harder than most people I know, and you're no exception. Take care of yourself before you end up a patient, okay? That is, unless you're roleplaying. Then you and Jason can do whatever you want as long as you don't end up on my blotter."

Oh Lord. The things that it would take to end up getting Becca called out to handle it. Molly's face flushed, and she hid her face in her large margarita glass. Becca laughed. "If you need any inspiration, let me know. I had to give the ‘indecent exposure' speech twice this week, and one of those times the couple asked to borrow my handcuffs. St. Louisians are super randy this week. Must be the full moon."

"Can I clear any of these dishes, ladies?"

The waiter paused by their table, and Molly handed over the half-eaten plate. When asked if she wanted to take it home, she paused. Cooking for one was...incredibly depressing. She nodded. The rest of the ladies had polished off their meals, and were already placing an order for two servings of fried ice cream to share among themselves. Molly groaned. Her stomach hurt, and the tequila was making her a little light-headed. It had been a while since she had drank. Drinking in her position was a really dangerous thing. She knew the temptation to over-indulge would soothe her feelings only in the short-term. Being hungover on the swing ward was not an option. It was so easy to make mistakes just being rushed, tired, and stressed. She couldn't afford the risk, not when people's lives could depend on it.

The ice cream in its crispy shell, topped with chocolate, was quickly devoured by the women, no one noticing when Molly only took two bites, sipping slowly at her drink and watching the conversation flow around her. It was good to get out of the apartment. She needed to stop staring at the walls, wondering if Jason had been right. How she'd never know. But it seemed that her inner torture followed her everywhere but work, as it sat, heavily, on her chest. Molly rubbed at her neck, and checked her watch. Ten after ten. She didn't work tomorrow, but no one else knew that.

"Girls, I'm sorry to be the first to budge, but I've got the morning shift tomorrow and it's a double, so I have to get some sleep."

Jennifer and Becca scooted out of the bench seating to allow her out as Caroline voiced her protests. Molly just waved, her mind already shutting down. With a quick hug for all, she promised to watch the email thread for the time and place for the next meal, this time almost assuredly a luncheon instead of dinner. She put on a brave face as she paid for her portion of the meal at the cash register, leaving her usual generous tip for the server. It was a hard job, too. Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor as she made her way through the crowded restaurant and into the relative quiet of the outdoors. She paused briefly on the sidewalk, steeling herself with a deep breath. She had made it without crying. No one knew. Her secret was safe. But now she had to return to it.

Her feet took her the five blocks home without her even comprehending the environment around her. It wasn't hardly the safest way to travel. She had been taught better. But no one bothered her, the Styrofoam container of leftovers, or her clutch purse as she traversed the way back to her apartment building with the steady, quick gait of a registered nurse on a mission.

It wasn't until she was in the elevator of her building, slowly ascending up to the eighth floor where her apartment was at the end of the hallway, that it dawned on her that she had completely tuned out too much of her surroundings. Because there were none. The elevator jerked and stuttered to a halt, and the lights went out, leaving her in the deepest darkness she had ever known.

She froze, waiting for the elevator to move. It didn't. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. She tried to remember which side of the elevator she was standing on. Chastising herself for being such an emotional zombie, she transferred her leftovers and purse to her left hand, reaching out tentatively in front of her with her right. Nothing but darkness. She moved her hand in a slow circle. Nothing. She took a small step forward, and repeated the motion. It was on the third step forward that her hand made sharp contact with something solid, yet giving. She jerked her arm back.

"I see you found me."

Molly shrieked, dropping her things as her hands instinctively came up to her face.

"I'm so sorry, Molly. I didn't speak earlier because I didn't want to startle you. Are you okay?"

Shaking, she tried to regain control over her breathing. "Mario?"

"Yes. You seemed really distracted coming in, and I wasn't sure you noticed me getting on here on the third floor."

"N-no. You're right. I didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

His tone softened. "No need to apologize. Are you okay?"

"I think so. But I'd like to get out of here."

"That makes two of us. I've been pushing the buttons, trying to find the emergency call, but I can't see anything. Do you have a light in that purse?"

She sighed. "No. I left my phone at home before I went out, and it's still on the charger in my kitchen. All I have is my wallet, keys, and a lipstick."

"A woman who packs light. Interesting." His teasing tone sobered slightly. "I don't have my phone, either. I just ran down to give Eric back his racket, and didn't think to grab anything but my keys."

"So..." She swallowed hard, trying to keep calm. "We're trapped, with no light. Great. Just great." It was the final straw. She just couldn't handle holding it all in anymore. Large tears spilled silently down her cheeks, splashing into nothingness, and she began to shudder.

"Whoa—are you okay?" She felt a hand make contact with the edge of her shoulder blade, and then settle on her shoulder. He could feel her sobbing quietly, and she didn't care.

"Are you scared of the dark?"

"No."

Silence. The hand, warm, was comforting in a weird way as she continued crying. She sniffed loudly, and the hand tightened slightly. Something soft brushed against her neck, and after a few insistent pokes she reached up for it. It was a small cloth.

"A...hanky?"

"Yeah." The disembodied voice was sheepish. "My grandfather used to carry them, and when he passed away, I picked up the habit. Good for times like these."

She chortled. "You often end up trapped in elevators with hysterical women?"

"No, this would be a first. Though I'd hardly call you hysterical. Pretty, sure. But not hysterical."

Molly gave a dry laugh. "You can't even see me."

"I've seen you before. Unless you've been doused in hydrochloric acid and grew thorns all over your body, I'd say you're still just as pretty, gorgeous even, as I remember."

"I'm hardly gorgeous. Gorgeous women don't—" She stopped herself. What was she doing?

"Don't what?" The voice was kind, so gentle. Just like the hand. Her resolve melted slightly. Maybe it was the anonymity of the darkness. The fact she wouldn't see the reaction in his eyes.

"Get cheated on."

The silence was not what she expected, but it held so much of what she felt sure was condemnation that her sobs threatened to return full force. Just as she began to crumble, the hand dropped down her arm to hold her hand.

"His inability to be faithful is not your fault. I didn't know Jason really well, though we hung out a few times since the two of you moved in last year."

"The World Series games."

"Yeah. The guy was---" Mario cleared his throat. "Not good enough for you. Honestly."

"What do you know?"

Again, a pause. "I know he's not who you should have ever been with, and it's good that he's out of your life. You haven't lost anything worth keeping." "Except most of the furniture, half our bank account, and the artwork. He hung it up at her house, took pictures, and sent them to me. How much better my things look in her loft. How much more they have together." Molly was sobbing again. The pain was so deep.

"Fucking asshole."

She half-sobbed, half-chortled at Mario's word choice. "Actually, he wasn't. He was fucking her for the past eight months. EIGHT MONTHS. And when I'd come home from work in the mood, or try to wake him up, he'd say that I was no good in bed, that I didn't know how to turn him on anymore, that I felt frigid and my boobs were too small and he couldn't get aroused by me anymore." Her hand flew to her mouth, cutting off the litany of insults he had thrown at her repeatedly over the last six months they were together. Why had she said that out loud, and to a guy she only sort of knew from the building? A practical stranger in pitch blackness whose hand was holding hers...but tighter now?

Mario pulled at her hand, and her body shifted a bit to the right. Something brushed at her elbow, then glided down. Fingers closed over her other hand. Mario tugged gently at them, almost like he was softly shaking her. "Molly, listen to me. Jason was a complete dickhead. I listened to him at the World Series parties. Trust me, you're better off without him, and no one, not even this new girl, will ever be able to live up to his unrealistic ideas of sex. He'll end up a dirty old man in a trailer, watching porn in a stained shirt, and blaming everyone else for his problems. You are beautiful, kind, and so very, very desirable and sexy."

"I'm hardly sexy."

Mario's laugh was warm, almost enough to touch her wounded heart. "Lady, if you only knew about the men who watched you walk away down the hallway. How stunning you look in that little green dress tonight. How your heels make your legs look like they go on for days, and any man worth a penny would gladly spend a lifetime exploring every inch of them."

Molly was stunned. Peering into the darkness, she tried to see his face, see if his expression matched his words. But no matter how hard she tried, the unrelenting darkness only allowed his words, his touch, to reach her.

"You—you aren't just saying that to get me to stop crying."

"Well, I don't like it when women cry." His right land left hers, and gently touched her chin, as though he knew exactly where it was. "Especially over assholes like Jason."

Molly used her free hand to mop at her face, only dimly aware that she must be making a mess of her makeup. Not that she wore much, but the mascara had to be all over the place. She scrubbed at her cheeks, hoping that when the lights came back on, he wouldn't run in fright.

"You're very kind, Mario. Even though I'm sure you don't mean it, they're nice things for you to say, and to hear."

His thumb began stroking softly against the back of her hand. "What can I do to have you believe me?"

There was one thing. Actions did speak louder than words. But there was a huge difference between a man holding her hand in the dark while she cried into his hanky and him...proving his attraction in an age-old expression of desire. A shiver ran up her spine just thinking about it. Thinking about what she remembered of him. Not very tall, but taller than her 5'6" height. Filled out his paramedics uniform nicely, last time she had seen him. Dark hair. Slightly crooked nose. Deep eyes that were as brown as the hot chocolate she drank on cold mornings. Delicious eyes. Eyes that couldn't see her now. But his hands could feel her. She shivered again.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his hand cup the side of her face, her ear cradled by his thumb. The heightened sensations from her inability to see made everything so much more sensuous. More powerful. She sensed him moving closer, and he released her hand in order to run his fingers though her shoulder-length curls. They tangled, and instantly gentled, trailing along the sensitive spot behind her neck, and down to her collarbone exposed by the low-necked sheath dress. Her breath returned, quickening. His touch was so light, and yet it fully captured every nuance of her attention. A spark of desire ignited inside her, a fire that had been extinguished for so long she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

She felt the moist warmth of his breath against her neck, and she gasped. She could almost feel his smile as he exhaled on the sensitive skin. Oh, she wanted him. She needed this. But she still could do nothing but feel. It wasn't until his breath moved slowly, agonizingly, up to her chin that she felt able to respond in any meaningful way. She pressed forward and their lips met. This much she knew how to do with her eyes closed. They kissed, and her desire soared. The man knew how to use his mouth on a woman—and the implications of that made her grow damp in the best place ever. She teased his lips with her tongue, and he eagerly drew her in. Her head was swimming as their kiss deepened, his hands roaming along her sides, teasing but never touching the spots that needed him most. She had no idea how much time had lapsed, but when he finally pulled back so they could draw in much-needed air, she felt her lips were slightly swollen.

"So you really think I'm gorgeous?" She meant it to come out coy, like how Caroline might say it, but her insecurity was betrayed by the tremor in her voice. A hand grasped hers and pulled it away from her, against solid body. Male body. Then down, over soft fabric, past a leather belt, and onto a bulge that could only be one, pulsing, amazing thing.

"There are two ways a man can prove that, and this is one of them."

Her fingers grasped gently along his length through his jeans, and he groaned softly. "What's the other, Mario?"

She felt him inhale. "He'll make it clear that her pleasure is just as, if not more, important than his."

Molly stilled. The last few times she and Jason had been intimate flashed through her head. They were more wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am than anything really enjoyable for her. But it had been something, and she had settled for it, trying not to feel ignored or rejected as she took care of her own orgasm later in the shower.

"I'm not sure I've had a guy feel that way in a really long time, if ever." As the words came out, she found them to be true, and the reality of that twisted at the pain inside her. Before she could dwell on it, though, Mario had pulled her firmly against him, his hands on her waist.

"Then allow me to make up for every inconsiderate asshole lucky enough to be invited into your bed."

His lips descended to her throat, his tongue flicking against her skin, and she moaned. Slowly he made his way down her chest, following the sweetheart neckline of her dress. His hands cupped her behind, massaging her ample backside and pressing her against his ever-hardening cock. Slowly, he increased his pressure and intensity in his nibbling. Molly began shaking with desire coursing through her, her body aching for him to touch her, kiss her, claim her. She reached back behind her and pulled at the zipper, smoothing the fabric down into a pool around her feet. She kicked it behind her, hearing it slap against the side of the elevator. Her breasts, respectable C cups, filled out the strapless bra well, not that he could see that. But his hands could feel them, and as soon as her skin was bared, his fingers were there. Caressing. Stroking. Teasing. When he finally reached around to undo the clasp on the bra, setting her free into the electrified air between them, she was more than ready. The first touch of his lips on her nipple made her cry out his name, her back arching, pressing her chest closer to the mouth she couldn't see. With no inhibitions about how she looked doing this, she allowed herself complete freedom to squirm, run her hands through her hair, and draw him to her. The pleasure was so intense, spiraling sharply down through her and pooling into the soaking gusset of her lace panties. They weren't matching to her bra, and had seen some better days, but Mario didn't know that. He wouldn't. Filled with confidence from that fact, she pulled one of his hands away from her torso and guided it down to where the fire inside was hottest.

His fingers slipped under the waistband, slipping it down one hip, then angling down to her wet core. She was sopping wet, and his fingers slid past her and slapped against her thigh. She felt his chuckle against her nipple before he released it from his ardent suckling.

"Now that is one aroused woman. I think it's time to give you a little taste of what a real man can do."

He pulled her back into a balanced standing position, keeping her close to him, and walking her forwards as he backed up. She felt it when he hit the side of the elevator wall, and he spun her around so she was facing it. Then he moved, and her body hung, naked but her heels, in the charged darkness before she felt his hands guiding hers to the handrail. She grasped it with both hands as he guided her, and felt him slip behind her. His lips trailed over her spine, over her ass, and she moaned in anticipation. She heard a faint sound behind her as his touch ceased. Without warning, her legs were being pushed apart, and his face was buried between them. Mario didn't need any light to find her clit, and his tongue warred expertly over it, making her writhe and moan loudly. She could feel her orgasm building, the ache so deep she could erupt. When fingers thrust up inside her, only needing a scant minute of exploration to find that most sensitive spot within, Molly lost control. Her hands gripped the railing with all her strength as she screamed, her entire body shaking and shuddering in passion and pleasure. His lips and tongue never stopped moving, drawing out her orgasm to its tortuous limits until a second one slammed into her out of nowhere. Her legs buckled and she collapsed into the darkness, only dimly aware of hands guiding her down to the ground safely. Tremors echoed through her limbs as she gasped for breath, everything feeling hazy.

She almost missed the sound of clothes hitting the wall behind her, a zipper, a soft groan. She couldn't miss the press of his body on top of her, his arms searching out safe places to brace himself as his knees pushed hers back apart. Without a word, he pressed his cock against her, and he slipped effortlessly through the swollen and sensitive flesh. Her hand instinctively knew what to do, and she guided him to her opening through the flood of her juices. The first press of him inside her had her moaning again, and as his hips met hers, she deepened the stroke, pressing back against him.

"Oh, Mario....yes....."

The feel of him inside her was the most intense experience she had ever had with a man. Normally this wasn't the most exciting part of sex for her, but there was something about him, about being completely blind, about the insanely strong orgasms he had brought her to, that made every stroke as delightful as if it had been his tongue. Only better. She arched her back, keening, allowing herself to completely abandon all pretenses and fully be in the moment. The sounds of their bodies colliding, their breathing, intertwined moans and her fingers raking the carpet, the walls, his back, surrounded her in an erotic cloud. Each thrust felt like the first. She shuddered as a hand grasped her breast, and he thrust deeply, changing his angle so he could bring the nipple to his mouth for a quick suckle. It was too much for Molly. Her whole body tensed as an orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy clenched and massaged him inside her, drawing him deeper while trapping him inside, and she could feel him tensing against her. She dimly noted him thrusting three more times before he stiffened, pouring his cum inside her. His damp chest collapsed onto her, the heat steaming off their bodies. She cradled him to her, not allowing him to pull out, wanting his cock to always be inside her. To always make her feel this way. Sexy. Gorgeous. Satisfied.

Her fingers trailed down his back as his breathing slowed. She smiled into the darkness. For once, she wasn't thinking about what this meant, where they went from here. She just enjoyed the afterglow.

"Did I prove myself?"

She thought a second. "If I say yes, does that mean we can't do this again?"

Mario's laugh joined hers, and they curled up together, still lazily exploring each other's bodies with their hands. It wasn't until a shudder rocked the floor beneath them that they seemed to remember where they were. A moment later, the lights blared on. Molly shielded her eyes, pulling her other hand up to cover her chest. Mario's hand closed over her wrist and guided her hand away. She blinked up at him.

"Your hair's a mess, like you got caught in a windstorm." She fingered a lock softly, then gasped and touched her own curls. "I have to look horrible."

Mario shook his head. "You look better than I've ever seen you." His eyes raked hungrily over her body, apparently enjoying seeing the places he had only touched and tasted before. "But I daresay we should continue this somewhere a bit more...comfortable. Where we can take our time seeing everything there is to see."

She blushed, and twisted to retrieve her dress. By the time they had gotten most of their clothes back on, sans her panties which she scrunched into a ball into the corner of her clutch purse, the elevator had shuddered twice more before slowly beginning to ascend. The bell dinged as the doors opened onto the eighth floor. Her floor. She turned to him, not really sure what to say to a man she only somewhat knew but had thoroughly fucked in an elevator. She held out the Styrofoam container that she had retrieved from the floor that had somehow survived both her dropping it and their frenzied lovemaking.

"Hungry?"

Mario never broke eye contact as he smiled. "Quite. Your place or mine?"

She shrugged, feeling slightly shy. "I don't have much furniture."

"Still have the bed?"

She nodded.

"Why don't we make some good memories in there for you? Then," he licked his lips, "We can explore just how creative we can be in more...open spaces."

Molly took his hand and guided him behind her, knowing full well he was watching her ass, and the damp spot on the back of her dress that marked the effects of their elevator trip. As she unlocked the door and invited him inside, she had a feeling that it was going to be a very, very good thing that she didn't work tomorrow.