Pretending
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Pretending Ch. 01 free porn video
Pretending
Chapter 1
© 2009 All rights reserved
"Simon, would you get that?" Connie called from her bedroom after she heard the knock on the door. Her date was probably here and she wasn't quite ready.
"No problem," came the reply.
She turned back to the mirror and decided this was the best she could do. Her black hair was swept back into a braid, and she wore dangly silver earrings. She wore a flower-print blouse with black slacks. She wished she could have worn a dress, but the scar on her leg always stopped her. She studied herself once more and wondered if perhaps she should have worn one of her longer skirts. She sighed; too late to change now.
x-x-x-x
Simon shook his head as he went to the door. Connie Davetsky was his roommate and his best friend, and he wanted it to be more. However, he chickened out every time he intended to tell her that, and instead, here he was going to let in her latest date. Simon hoped he was nicer than the last guy. It wasn't that Connie had bad taste in men, he thought, it was just that she somehow seemed to find the ones who offered a bait-and-switch.
"Hi, I'm here for Connie," said the man at the door. He held out his hand. "Ron Cutter."
Simon shook his hand. "Simon Banks," he said. "Come on in." Simon sized Ron up as he walked into the apartment and wasn’t impressed. Everything about him put Simon off, from the possible start of a beer gut to the thin brown hair that needed a trim. Simon would admit that he was not in peak physical shape--it was too easy to avoid the gym in the cold weather--but Ron looked soft. He has a weak chin, too, Simon thought. And beady little eyes.
Simon managed to control his annoyance when Ron walked in and threw himself down on the couch as though he'd been coming there for ages. In truth, he'd only been there a couple of times, though not when Simon was around. He could at least wait for an invitation, thought Simon.
"Got a beer?" Ron asked.
"Sorry, we're out." Simon tried not to sound curt.
Simon's opinion of the other man fell further. He was not about to give Connie's date a drink before they'd even set off. As far as Simon could see, there wasn’t much likable about Ron Cutter.
He forced himself to calm down. It was his own fault that Connie was going out with this--this guy. He'd had plenty of chances to tell Connie how he felt, but he kept backing down. He should give Ron a chance, if only for Connie's sake.
"Connie will just be a minute." Simon took back his seat on the sofa, where he'd been watching the news and turned off the TV in an effort at politeness.
"You've been friends with Connie for a while, right?" Ron slouched on the sofa and put one foot on the coffee table. "She's mentioned you a lot."
"Since high school." Simon tried to ignore the foot.
"I've gotta ask you something, then." When Simon nodded, Ron continued, "Have you ever seen the scar on her leg?"
Simon felt himself tense up but tried not to show it. "I saw a little, once. I was with her when it happened."
Ron gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I gotta say, I hope I don't see all of it. I accidentally saw her leg the other night, and my God, it looked like alligator skin or something." Simon tried to keep his teeth from grinding together in anger as Ron went on. "Don’t get me wrong, Connie's pretty. I'm not against things happening, if you get my drift. But I think I'll have to keep the lights out and watch where my hands go, if you know what I mean." Ron laughed to himself, oblivious to Simon's reddening face.
"Get out."
Neither man knew Connie was in the living room until she spoke. Her face was pale, and she crossed her arms to hide her trembling hands. Ron looked up, realized she'd heard everything he'd said, and started to sputter.
"Oh, Connie, I didn't . . . I mean, I--"
"Just get out!"
"Connie--" Ron tried one more time.
"She said leave." Simon stood up. At six foot two, he could look pretty intimidating when he wanted to, and right now, he wanted to. "Get out of here, and don't ever talk to her again."
"Fine." Ron snarled. "I was only doing you a favor, anyway. Not many guys want a fat chick, let alone one with a deformed leg." He turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Good riddance, Simon thought. He looked like a ferret. Not to insult ferrets.
x-x-x-x
For a few moments, Connie could only hear her own heart beating in the silence. She couldn't move, couldn’t even think. She kept her arms crossed in front of her as though they were holding her body together.
"Connie." Simon started over to her. That snapped her back.
She shook her head, backed quickly into her room and closed the door. Once on the other side, she locked it, leaned back against the wall, slid down to the floor, and started crying.
How could that have happened? Connie covered her face with her hands. How could she have mistaken a jerk like Ron for a nice guy? Again? It seemed like every guy she went out with lately did something like that, although none had been so hurtful as this. It was so much worse that Simon was involved.
If Ron had said something to her while they were out, or at least alone, she would have been just as angry and still told him to go, but it wouldn't have been this bad. For him to have said that in front of Simon made her want to die. She didn't want Simon to know what lousy choices she made with guys.
What she wanted was Simon. It had been that way for ages, but for all the usual reasons, she hadn't made any moves. They were best friends, and she didn't want to ruin that. Plus, Simon deserved better than her. He deserved someone who didn't have a twisted scar running the length of her leg, who didn't walk with a permanent limp, who wasn't constantly fighting to keep her self-confidence up.
She'd always thought Simon was gorgeous. She loved his broad shoulders and the fact that he was just tall enough so that when he put his arm around her, her head rested on his shoulder. He never remembered to get his auburn hair cut on a regular basis so sometimes it hung into his eyes. When it was like that, Connie had to fight the urge to brush it back. He had dark brown eyes that looked black in the right light. When they focused on her, Connie's heart skipped a beat.
And now , she thought as she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand, when he looks at me he'll think about what an idiot I am. It was only nine o'clock, but Connie couldn’t take it any more and decided to go to bed. Simon's voice on the other side of the door startled her.
"Connie," he called. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Come on, Connie." Simon tried the knob. "Let me in, please? You can talk to me about it, you know that."
"I'm going to bed, Simon." Her voice was steadier but still a bit hoarse. "I'm sorry. I just . . . I just want to sleep."
"All right." He paused. "Come get me if you need anything, or want to talk. Any time, you know that."
"Thanks." She leaned her head against the door. What would he think if she told him what she wanted was to have him hold her all night, so that she could rest her head on his shoulder while she slept? So she could feel safe and cared for? Probably laugh and tousle her hair and head off to his own room to play video games.
Chapter 1
© 2009 All rights reserved
"Simon, would you get that?" Connie called from her bedroom after she heard the knock on the door. Her date was probably here and she wasn't quite ready.
"No problem," came the reply.
She turned back to the mirror and decided this was the best she could do. Her black hair was swept back into a braid, and she wore dangly silver earrings. She wore a flower-print blouse with black slacks. She wished she could have worn a dress, but the scar on her leg always stopped her. She studied herself once more and wondered if perhaps she should have worn one of her longer skirts. She sighed; too late to change now.
x-x-x-x
Simon shook his head as he went to the door. Connie Davetsky was his roommate and his best friend, and he wanted it to be more. However, he chickened out every time he intended to tell her that, and instead, here he was going to let in her latest date. Simon hoped he was nicer than the last guy. It wasn't that Connie had bad taste in men, he thought, it was just that she somehow seemed to find the ones who offered a bait-and-switch.
"Hi, I'm here for Connie," said the man at the door. He held out his hand. "Ron Cutter."
Simon shook his hand. "Simon Banks," he said. "Come on in." Simon sized Ron up as he walked into the apartment and wasn’t impressed. Everything about him put Simon off, from the possible start of a beer gut to the thin brown hair that needed a trim. Simon would admit that he was not in peak physical shape--it was too easy to avoid the gym in the cold weather--but Ron looked soft. He has a weak chin, too, Simon thought. And beady little eyes.
Simon managed to control his annoyance when Ron walked in and threw himself down on the couch as though he'd been coming there for ages. In truth, he'd only been there a couple of times, though not when Simon was around. He could at least wait for an invitation, thought Simon.
"Got a beer?" Ron asked.
"Sorry, we're out." Simon tried not to sound curt.
Simon's opinion of the other man fell further. He was not about to give Connie's date a drink before they'd even set off. As far as Simon could see, there wasn’t much likable about Ron Cutter.
He forced himself to calm down. It was his own fault that Connie was going out with this--this guy. He'd had plenty of chances to tell Connie how he felt, but he kept backing down. He should give Ron a chance, if only for Connie's sake.
"Connie will just be a minute." Simon took back his seat on the sofa, where he'd been watching the news and turned off the TV in an effort at politeness.
"You've been friends with Connie for a while, right?" Ron slouched on the sofa and put one foot on the coffee table. "She's mentioned you a lot."
"Since high school." Simon tried to ignore the foot.
"I've gotta ask you something, then." When Simon nodded, Ron continued, "Have you ever seen the scar on her leg?"
Simon felt himself tense up but tried not to show it. "I saw a little, once. I was with her when it happened."
Ron gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I gotta say, I hope I don't see all of it. I accidentally saw her leg the other night, and my God, it looked like alligator skin or something." Simon tried to keep his teeth from grinding together in anger as Ron went on. "Don’t get me wrong, Connie's pretty. I'm not against things happening, if you get my drift. But I think I'll have to keep the lights out and watch where my hands go, if you know what I mean." Ron laughed to himself, oblivious to Simon's reddening face.
"Get out."
Neither man knew Connie was in the living room until she spoke. Her face was pale, and she crossed her arms to hide her trembling hands. Ron looked up, realized she'd heard everything he'd said, and started to sputter.
"Oh, Connie, I didn't . . . I mean, I--"
"Just get out!"
"Connie--" Ron tried one more time.
"She said leave." Simon stood up. At six foot two, he could look pretty intimidating when he wanted to, and right now, he wanted to. "Get out of here, and don't ever talk to her again."
"Fine." Ron snarled. "I was only doing you a favor, anyway. Not many guys want a fat chick, let alone one with a deformed leg." He turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Good riddance, Simon thought. He looked like a ferret. Not to insult ferrets.
x-x-x-x
For a few moments, Connie could only hear her own heart beating in the silence. She couldn't move, couldn’t even think. She kept her arms crossed in front of her as though they were holding her body together.
"Connie." Simon started over to her. That snapped her back.
She shook her head, backed quickly into her room and closed the door. Once on the other side, she locked it, leaned back against the wall, slid down to the floor, and started crying.
How could that have happened? Connie covered her face with her hands. How could she have mistaken a jerk like Ron for a nice guy? Again? It seemed like every guy she went out with lately did something like that, although none had been so hurtful as this. It was so much worse that Simon was involved.
If Ron had said something to her while they were out, or at least alone, she would have been just as angry and still told him to go, but it wouldn't have been this bad. For him to have said that in front of Simon made her want to die. She didn't want Simon to know what lousy choices she made with guys.
What she wanted was Simon. It had been that way for ages, but for all the usual reasons, she hadn't made any moves. They were best friends, and she didn't want to ruin that. Plus, Simon deserved better than her. He deserved someone who didn't have a twisted scar running the length of her leg, who didn't walk with a permanent limp, who wasn't constantly fighting to keep her self-confidence up.
She'd always thought Simon was gorgeous. She loved his broad shoulders and the fact that he was just tall enough so that when he put his arm around her, her head rested on his shoulder. He never remembered to get his auburn hair cut on a regular basis so sometimes it hung into his eyes. When it was like that, Connie had to fight the urge to brush it back. He had dark brown eyes that looked black in the right light. When they focused on her, Connie's heart skipped a beat.
And now , she thought as she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand, when he looks at me he'll think about what an idiot I am. It was only nine o'clock, but Connie couldn’t take it any more and decided to go to bed. Simon's voice on the other side of the door startled her.
"Connie," he called. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Come on, Connie." Simon tried the knob. "Let me in, please? You can talk to me about it, you know that."
"I'm going to bed, Simon." Her voice was steadier but still a bit hoarse. "I'm sorry. I just . . . I just want to sleep."
"All right." He paused. "Come get me if you need anything, or want to talk. Any time, you know that."
"Thanks." She leaned her head against the door. What would he think if she told him what she wanted was to have him hold her all night, so that she could rest her head on his shoulder while she slept? So she could feel safe and cared for? Probably laugh and tousle her hair and head off to his own room to play video games.
Louise
- 25.07.2022
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