"Abby, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course. Shoot.” Abby opened the basket and took out a sub sandwich wrapped in butcher paper. It was easily a foot long, and about as big around as my forearm. It looked like it could have fed a horse. "Sorry. I would have come up with something more homemade, but it would have looked funny. Thankfully, the picnic basket was in the garage, or else we'd be eating our picnic out of a plastic shopping bag."
"This is just fine," I said, unwrapping it to find a turkey sub with bacon and cranberry mustard dressing. Easily a half pound of turkey slices, probably an entire pack of bacon, and just a bit of cheese complimented the whole package. "It's a little Thanksgiving, isn't it?"
"You can always enjoy a good Thanksgiving," Abby said, taking out a can of Pringles and a bottle of Cheerwine. She handed them to me, then got her own, much smaller sandwich and sides out, along with the same Cheerwine. When I looked at her bottle, she raised it in a salute. "A Southern tradition, you know."
“I love it,” I answered, toasting her and opening both bottles. "I guess my question is, what happens next?"
"What do you mean, next?" Abby asked carefully, setting her bottle down. "Do you mean with me going to grad school? Well, I'm planning on going to GT for my Masters too, and after that, well, we'll just have to see. What do you think of North Carolina? Duke and UNC both have great Ph.D. programs."
"Last time I went to North Carolina, it was on leave," I said, thinking back into my memories. "I ran into some boys from the 82nd. When they found out I was 101st, we had a friendly discussion that ended up with my getting a black eye."
Abby laughed and sighed. "That's what I like about you, Dane."
"What?" I asked, taking a huge bite out of my sandwich. It was juicy and delicious, and I reminded myself to get the address of the shop from Abby, no matter what. "That I got my ass kicked? I mean, I gave as good as I got against three other guys, but that’s beside the point.”
"No, that you're secure enough in who you are and in your maturity that you’re willing to admit that. Any other man I've ever met, after the way we met, at least, would have told me a litany of lies that made him look like the world's biggest badass," she said, laying back on the blanket and letting her body stretch out. She looked so sexy, I couldn't have taken my eyes from her anyway. “You’re the real deal, and you don’t try to flaunt it. It’s refreshing. And you know what else?"
"What?" I asked.
"I'm hoping that you’re going to take advantage of our privacy and this blanket," she purred, cupping her breast. "I've not been able to get that night out of my mind for six weeks. If that's what you meant by what's next."
It wasn't, but I damn sure wouldn’t turn something like that down. Setting the delicious food aside, I lifted the basket out of the way, making sure it was clear of anything before I lay down next to Abby, pulling her into my arms and softly kissing her lips.
I tasted the sweet wine on her mouth and tongue. Her breasts pushed up into my chest, and her legs were warm and strong under mine. Abby's kiss was tender and loving, her fingers running through my hair and pulling me in tighter.
With a giggle and a squeal, we rolled until she was on top, kissing me with her hair dangling over our face. Breaking our kiss, she traced my forehead and eyebrows, looking down on me. "Dane.”
“Yes, Abby?” I asked as she wiggled her body, rubbing against my now raging hard on.
"Call me Abs. You're the first person to ever do that, and . . . well . . . I kinda like it."
My answering combined chuckle and moan was more than enough of an answer, and we kissed again, my hands going from caressing to demanding, hungry to feel the silky smoothness of Abby's skin and to see her nude in the shaded afternoon light. "Abs." It came so naturally.
She lifted her body enough for me to pull her tank top up and off, leaving her in just a lacy bra. I repeated the name over and over, kissing down her throat and finding her pulse on her collarbone. She mewled and gasped, struggling to form a question. "Please, can you take off your things too?"
"Please? I like that," I teased, letting her get off me while I sat up. I'd dressed casually, but still more than she had, with a light cotton, button-down shirt to go with my own cargo shorts, five years or more out of fashion, but what I was still comfortable with.