The Unidentified Redhead

We headed straight for the shower, dropping our clothes as we walked through the room, efficient and expedient in our undressing. I laughed at the seriousness with which we approached this, our final shower.

"It's like Dead Man Showering," I quipped, as he plodded across the room in only his boxers, clothes strewn messily about. I was no better. I was wriggling out of my bra so fast it was like someone was holding a gun to my head.

"It does have a certain finality to it, doesn't it?" He chuckled wryly, watching me as I struggled to get the last clasp. "Can I please help you with that?" He sighed, the sound turning into a full on belly laugh as I contorted myself this way and that, trying desperately to get out of it.

"Smartass," I said, poking his ribs as he approached me. He stood behind me as I held my hair up and when it was finally off, his hands slipped lower to my waist, hooking his fingers through the band of my panties and begi

"I don't recall asking you to help with those, Sweet Nuts," I scolded, my breath begi

"I don't recall asking for your opinion on this matter, Nuts Girl," he growled in my ear as the panties went down. He threw them over my shoulder and I watched them soar through the air.

"Shower?" I asked.

"Yeah. Let's get wet," he teased, pushing me towards the bathroom.

"Too late," I stated, feeling the entire lower half of my body begi

"Is that a fact?" he asked, spi

"Oh, like you're not totally turned on. I can see that you are, George," I murmured, letting my eyes peek at Mr. Hamilton Jr. poking at his boxers. My hands came up to his shoulders and I ran them down the length of his arms, while his snaked around my waist, pulling me to him.

"And why the hell do you still have these on?" I asked, snapping the band on his boxers.

"You tell me, Crazy," he said, reaching past me to turn on the shower.

"I'm on it," I answered, removing the offending boxers in the time it would take you to say Hamiltonian-Wake-Up-Call.

We scrambled in, the water covering us as we lathered quickly. He washed my hair, letting the water run down my body, covering me in bubbles. He, of course, held my boobies while I washed his hair…for balance. He truly never tired of playing with them. I honestly think if he had his own pair, I might never hear from him again. Luckily, I never tired of him playing with them, either. He had me moaning within seconds, and then groaning a minute later. He was taking my washing up very seriously this morning, and there was not a place on my body he didn't attend to. He brought me to three quick intense orgasms and before I knew it, we were out of the shower and on the floor of the bathroom, with me on top, riding him in a frenzy. We were getting water all over the floor as we tried to stay on the bathmat.

In the end, neither of us cared that we strayed off the bathmat.

We fucked frantically, laughing when he knocked over the tower of toiletries with his foot while baby powder and tampons rained down on us. We laughed when the squeak of his ass against the marble became almost louder than my groaning. And we really laughed when we came together, tension and giggles giving way to satisfaction.

I rolled off him, landing squarely on my flat iron. I yelped, and when he tried to roll after me, he hit his head squarely on the toilet.

I looked around at the state of the bathroom—the open shower door, the Always with Wings and mascara strewn about the floor, the flat iron under my bum and Jack Hamilton rubbing his head where he had bonked it on the bowl.

I laughed and laughed until tears streamed down my face, my naked body jiggling in places that I knew couldn't look good. And I didn't care.

"I…love you…so…much…" I choked out, wiping my face off with a piece of toilet paper from behind me.

"I love you too, Gracie…Always," he deadpa

I started into a fresh round of laughter, holding my stomach, it hurt so much. He crawled over to me, knocking bottles left and right with his knees and kissed me square on the lips.

"You're crazy, but you're my Crazy. I love it." He stood, helped me up, and then walked out into the bedroom, flexing his buns for me.

"We need to get a move on, it's getting late," he said over his shoulder. I glanced at the clock on the counter and saw that it was already nine-fifteen.

Shit.

He stuck his head back in the bathroom and winked. "You're the greatest, Grace, the greatest."

I smirked at him and then began to get dressed.

***

9:57 a.m.

I stood with Holly in the driveway while Jack put my suitcases in my car. He was driving me to the airport and then he'd bring my car back to her house. I fought down the lump in my throat. I could tell she had one, as well.

"So, you have everything, right?" she checked. "Neil is going to call you tonight to check in. You have a meeting with him on Thursday after you get settled into the hotel, right?"

"Yes ma'am, I'm meeting him Thursday."

"And you have your cell charger, right? You call my ass the minute you land. Do you have money for a cab into the city? It will be about forty-five dollars…don't let them charge you more than that."

"I got it, Mom. I've been there before, you know, probably more often than you." I laughed at her mother-he

"I know, I know, asshead. I guess that's it," she said, pressing her lips tightly together.

"OK, dillweed. I'll call you when I land. Bye," I said, hugging her quickly.

She didn't say anything, just nodded her head and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me back just as hard.

She pulled away from me and disappeared into the house. Holly always hated goodbyes. I turned to Jack, a little teary, and he reached for my hand.

"You ready to go?" he asked quietly.

"Yep, let's do this," I answered, wiping away the few tears that had escaped and climbing into my car. This time I let him drive.

It was one of the few mornings ever in the history of L.A. with little traffic, and all too soon, we were pulling into LAX. He insisted on parking and walking me in, even though I wanted him to just let me out at the curbside check-in. My stomach had been in knots ever since the floor of the bathroom, and I knew now how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to him. We parked underground and I swear you have never seen anyone take so long to remove luggage from the trunk as him. We held hands, walking at a turtle's pace towards the ticket counter and he waited patiently as I punched in my frequent flyer number, bringing up my itinerary. I was pleased to see I'd gotten an upgrade and would be in seat 3D, a window seat.

"Sheridan?" the counter agent called, and we moved forward to check my bags. Jack placed them on the scale and we stood, waiting for her to wrap the tags around the handle.

"OK, you're checking two bags through to La Guardia, right?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, surprised at my own voice. It was rough and my throat felt like sandpaper. One look at Jack and I could see he was starting to feel it, too. His eyes were overcast, the green almost blue.

She gave me my ticket and pointed me towards the correct security checkpoint that would take me to my terminal. Jack slung my carry-on bag over his shoulder and we walked away slowly, holding hands again. Right before we got to where we'd have to be separated, he pulled me over to the wall, almost hidden behind a vending machine. He set my bag down and I kept my eyes on the floor. I literally couldn't bear to look at him.