A rush

She couldn’t tell if it was her nesting instinct, or the yearning desire for power, power that had only existed in school, that brought her home that weekend. Yale wasn’t everything she expected, her roommates were no patch for Amanda who’d visit once, twice a semester –mostly for sporting events which Veronica had chosen to shy away from. Classes were twice as hard as school but college brought welcome relief and escapism from her problems.

The perfect weekending relationship with  Neil had soured faster and harder than either could have predicted. Released into a Fraternity  Neil Gomez had become his fathers worst nightmare choosing to spend night upon night loosing himself in party after party turning him into an Adonis of pent up anger and bullish strength. He wasn’t the soppy eyed school senior Veronica had been in love with. She’d politely told him down the phone last night that she wouldn’t be coming that weekend and in fact the next time they’d connect would be the Christmas dinner their families forced upon them.

Unable to reach her mom who was staying in Paris Veronica had settled for a tearful phone call and promises to try and work things out with her synthetic relationship. Amanda had offered to hop on a train to come visit but Veronica had heard Dan’s hushed tones over the phone and declined, not wanting to burden her friend’s dirty weekend somewhere between Brown and Dartmouth.

At one point, reaching the steps she used to frequent for lunch, Veronica had even contemplated calling Jenny who had assumed position of Queen Bee the second Veronica had officially left the school. Concluding that a cat fight wasn’t on the menu she’d turned towards the Palace hotel in search of a strong, legal cocktail.

As she hissed an order to the bar tender with a defined English accent she quelled the urge to ask him to leave the bottle of tequila at her side. Her frame now a further 15 pounds lighter for dislike of the dorm catering couldn’t hold much alcohol, 5 cocktails was her limit, three got her dancing and one took the edge off life just enough to allow sleep to encroach. Like any freshman experiencing independent life she too had been taken home and left with a bucket at her side as she rode out the hell of an hangover, a look that made her face tired and lethargic.

“Well I’ll be dammed” she could feel her skin crawl at the voice, Charlie Cross had not strayed from his precious New York, too lazy to move from the luxurious surroundings he’d grown up in. Somehow he’d been accepted to Columbia after failing his final year with spectacular style, butt joke of the school New York was now waiting on the Cross Teaching laboratory to be finished, money she postulated could buy everything including a fake education.

“Charlie” she avoided his gaze as he lifted the slack of his suit trousers, perching on a stool directly next to her.

“Nathaniel is deeply, deeply cut over your sudden break-up” he sneered, leering at her- who couldn’t-drowned in an old dress she’d found at the penthouse, fearful to let the Waldorf beauty slip over a simple break up, Veronica had burned her hand twice as she curled her hair,.

“Have you seen  Neil lately?” she quipped, stabbing at her olive with anger and frustration.

“I was up there only the other weekend, he’s thriving at that frat house wouldn’t you say?” Once a month she’d escaped the stuffy Yale atmosphere to have passio Neil sex with  Neil till 6 am when they’d both unfurl to opposite sides of his bed and sleep till dinner time.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” her voice quivered as the alcohol began skewing with her emotions.

“Things were never going to work with you two.” He stated softly, since her birthday party she’d known Charlie Cross was in love with her but the thought could make her vomit on an empty stomach, if not for money he’d be serving time for indecent exposure and lewd behaviour.

“Yeah well we’re over and no one seems to be giving a dam.”

“He’s already changed his facebook status to single” Gossip Girl was a thing of the distant past- the Perez Hilton of their school had too graduated and moved to college where he was persuing a glittering career in gutter-journalism.

“I hadn’t noticed” she had noticed and spent an hour in her room mates arms sobbing her heart out.  Neil had been her first love, and so far the only one to captivate her heart. Offering sanctuary during her troublesome teenage years they’d shared more than most couples would in a life time.

“Why don’t we head to Victrola?” she looked up for the first time and saw not a sleazy glint in Charlies eyes but the caring, worried expression of a friend.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I’m drinking on an empty stomach and I’m not in the mood”

“How can you not be in the mood for escapism, come on I’ll buy you some food along the way. Provided you don’t hurl over me” they shared a light pause of laughter, Veronica had over-done things at their grease themed leaving party, getting on a ride too soon after popcorn and candyfloss. She was yet to live down the moment she painted the entire seat a bile-green.

“I want sushi” Veronica drawled as they waited for a cab.

“24-hour-sushi please sir” Charlie bent down to open the taxi door at the same time as Veronica, causing their heads to clash painfully.

“Chalk concussion up on that list” Veronica giggled as they pulled off into another bustling New York Night.

“You’ve almost got enough for a really bad country song.” The jibe earned him a Prada shaped dent in his stomach but the genuine smile was worth the transient pain.

“Country girls dance on tables don’t they?” Veronica fell in with the joke as she snuggled closer to Charlie, the backseat big enough for three suddenly feeling like a terrifying ocean.

“Well last time almost required a cold shower.” Charlie pushed his arm around hers as they drew to a stop outside the sushi bar. “Wait here and I’ll get you something good” He returned with two bags and a bottle of cheap wine.

“Victorla please,” Charlie turned back to face Veronica who was eyeing her box with suspicion, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, too emotional too keep anything down.

“What’s wrong? It’s completely fresh!” not wanting to disappoint she quelled his temper with a breft smile and tentatively opened the box, taking a light sniff before lifting a small piece to her dry, cracked lips.

Stomach acid rushed to ravish the food as she swallowed it against a acidic slug of wine, this wasn’t Veronica Waldorf’s style but right now, in the moment she felt more at ease than she had in months.

“Better?” Charlie placed his emptied box back in the back and swiped the wine from Veronica as she too replaced her box half eaten into the bag.

“A bit” dabbing her face so as not to remove what foundation remained her attention focussed on the streaming lights of New York, swimming into a giant buzz of electric glow. She was unsure if her own tears made the light swim or if it was the car’s motion was making her focus distort but it was culminating in a grey cloud of depression.

“Can we not go to Victrola? I’m not in a table dancing kinda mood.” Her request took him back but he nodded, changing their destination to a small, private bar where no-one around would find them.

“You know..” he hesitated, unsure of himself, “…you can talk to me right? Even if you do spill your heart and soul to me no one will give a dam, except maybe  Neil-but right now you hate him so…”

Before she realised her actions Veronica had reached across to plant a tender, momentary kiss on Charlie’s lips. “You really are a sweet guy beyond the sleaze.”

Shocked at her protective barriers shutting shop Charlie paused for a moment, what moments ago had been a vulnerable, beautiful girl had turned into the Upper East Side’s toughest vixen, smouldering sex appeal and blazing snarky charm: the chameleonic change enticing him.

“Don’t do this Veronica” he chastised, laying a gentle hand on her thigh, coaxing her muscles into spasm with such a light touch.

“Do what Charlie? You and I both know we’re gonna get off tonight, it’s just a matter of time and place. Victrola’s toilets would be sub-standard even for you.” She swiped his hand away and tightened the grip on her coat.

“Lets go back to mine, talk some more, enjoy some finer alcohol and see where the night goes? I even have super strength condoms.” Neither could laugh at the bad joke, it had been Veronica’s downfall, catalogued in painful public view by Gossip Girl, and put strain on  Neil and Charlie’s close relationship.

She never answered him but nodded, immediately flipping the coin on her personality, the vulnerability back. HE knew, seeing the turn in her eyes as they glazed over – it broke his heart- tears welling in the corner.

“Man this taxi ain’t half freezing” his joke was followed by him scooting closer to her, replacing the protective arm over her shoulder. She knew he was lying because heat radiated through his Mac warming her death-cold body.

They made quick work of reaching the apartment, climbing the front steps two at a time, hand in hand. Nodding to the door man they shared a companionable silence in the elevator, riding to the top floor where the apartment was lit only by the New York City sky line. Relinquishing his grip Charlie moved behind the private bar to fix a tray of champagne.

“My dear lady, take a seat” the devilish grin on his face sent Veronica wild inside, she took the proffered seat and hastily downed the drink, confident the little food she’d eaten had absorbed the alcohol.

“More?” he doesn’t wait for an answer but instead refills her glass, taking a moment to observe her poise and control. Mentally he’s already undressing her, wondering if she’s chosen delicate black silk underwear or the cream and green mix that she wore the night he took her first.

“You’ll need to try my dad’s new wine, he’s branched out” she felt giggly now, re-acquainting with alcohol induced oblivion.

“I shall indeed, place a special order for the Cross-Van Der Woodsen family?” she nods and studied him for a moment, her eyes glazing and focusing in a languid enticing manner.

“Don’t you find it incredibly weird that come summer you’re going to be half brother to Eric and Amanda? I mean you could have slept with Amanda at some point during senior year.” He thinks his answer through, yes, IT girl Amanda has a je ne sais quoi but he had an odd respect for Daniel Humphrey, the way his schooling meant more than a daily pastime- a fragile partial scholarship jibing the Brooklyn lad at every turn.

“Its family” he stated simply, with the loneliness of an only child.

“Touché” they’ve consumed almost half a bottle in the brief conversation, quelling demons with the soft tickle of champagne.

“Don’t you get lonely?” she goes rigid, ram-rod with fear that he’s dissected her every barrier in four words.

“College keeps me busy” her reply is evasive, he scoots closer to her, invisibly encroaching on her space with friendly concern. Her body stops tensing, lost between loosing herself in his embrace and leaving the apartment all together. His sleaze goes un-noticed as he traces round the cusp of her thigh muscle, causing it to ripple. As his lips claim hers she can feel her body go languid at his touch, a heat growing at her core as their lips part to deepen the kiss, the need for oxygen belayed. She reaches round to the firm small of his back, steadying herself against his comforting frame.

“Are we?” she’s breathless as they surface for air. Grateful that she’s begged the question he lifts her tiny frame into his arms and climbs the stairs to his mezzanine bedroom. Slowly he buries to find the zipper of her dress, eager to find out what underwear she’s wearing but also to get the skin on skin contact that makes the world seem ok for a moment. She reciprocates with a deft touch of his shirt buttons, slipping each one out like a budd breaks into flower. He realises she’s graduated to the black silk that drives him wild. Even in the dim light she resembles a 1920’s movie star, the girl he spent many angst filled teenage years dreaming over. Her long brown hair tousles against the sheets as he lifts her only an inch of the bed to rid her of the dress that gaped from her body. They return to the happy closeness of making out, not wanting to ruin what is about to follow.

Slowly he pulls away from her littering her frail neck with butterfly kisses and warm whispers that he’ll be gentle and slow. She finds the domination welcoming, drawing his body closer to hers by clasping her heel clad feet together behind him. As he unfurls the cusp of her nipple from its black silk prison she reaches towards the waistband of his upmarket boxers, slipping a single middle finger below to circle the skin in the crux of his pelvis where she can drive him wild in an instant. Two can play at that game Cross. He pushes away from her, sliding her up the bed further so he can get closer to her centre, lifting her shoes off one at a time, ogling the suspender combination he’s discovered.

As he trails the lip of her panties he can feel the heat swirling in her stomach, levering a finger towards her center he feels her wet to his touch, breath hitching as he circles in alter Neil slow and fast motions which have her purring his name in less than sixty seconds.

“Fuck, Cross” she’s clawing at the sheets as he tingles the skin of her back, removing her bra and sliding her suspender’s down so she’s bare against him muscles still twitching from his ministrations. She reaches forwards to undo his belt and plummeting his clothing to the floor. Slowly he edges her legs apart, lowering himself onto her, careful not to crush her body as he glides into her, filling her more than he remembered. Rapidly he can feel her climax around him, unconsciously gripping him as her muscles convulse outwards. He thrusts harder as her whimper turns into a yelp and breathless, repetitive muttering of his name, he can feel his own climax approaching as she slides her hands over his abs, bringing him in to kiss so he can barely breathe. Almost transcending the moment he can’t remember sex ever meaning so much as the both ride out the crest of orgasm, collapsing into each others arms as the regain lost breath.

“Jesus Christ” He places a kiss into her hair, softly stroking her arm as they shimmy the covers over them, the room suddenly cold against their skin. She barely gives him time to think as she rolls him onto his back, straddling him.

She trails a single finger over his pecks, almost teasing each individual hair. He can feel himself peak once more but she ignore this placing a trail of kisses towards his groin. Feeling her take him inside her mouth he whimpers at the soft bite-suck motion she builds up, prolonging the build up as mouth is replaced by hand, finally allowing her body to settle over him as he thrusts against her, flipping her onto her back as they rock together, “Thank…..”she can’t utter more than a word at a time. “You”. He feels a sudden surge of adrenaline as his heart caramelises, liquidating the solid crystalline it once was.