Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]

[Kisupure]

@olo As soon as I toss back my next dose of dayquil.

And holy moly that’s definitely a joke waiting in the wings.

[Kisupure]

As I was writing this I kept thinking that the name Keith sounded familiar, and I realized that it was the name of the “previous generation” SW author that wrote all the stories that I cut my teeth on in my first days exploring the kink. Sigh. His presence in the community is still missed, I wish he hadn’t left. I guess this is a small homage to him.

[Kisupure]

CHAPTER 4: THE MUSEUM

Dawn went to the “crack” in the door after he’d padded away just to make sure that he was indeed preoccupying himself with something else, and that there was no chance for a last-minute “oh and I forgot to say–” that would catch her off-guard.

But he was out of sight already, disappeared beyond the large plywood boxes, painted the same eggshell white as everything else, that served to divide up the immense space. It was a unique loft, she had to admit; clearly a turn-of-the-century industrial building, with the boss’s space in what was now the upstairs kitchen, a storage area that was now the guest room, and a walled bedroom and bathroom that must’ve been later additions, still from the pre-war era judging by the furnishings. It was not especially to her taste, she preferred a modern look: silky black lacquer and polished metal made her weak at the knees. But as an artist, he did at least have some semblance of taste and this was clearly no bachelor pad.

The little lady shrugged off the Cabbage Patch dress (really, that’s all it took) and lifted her leg to swirl it around in the warmish water. The temperature was perfect, and without further ado she slipped in and sighed contentedly. It might not have been a clawfoot, but it nearly fit her like one.

She too was back out and ready to go in a matter of minutes. Dawdling was one of her least favorite things in the world, especially when there were plans made. The thrill-seeker in her was relishing what strange challenges lay ahead. Dawn felt like she did before a case: figuring out ways to underplay her hand, fly under the radar, and come out the winner. Surely, today could be had like any game of strategy, with Keith her willing accomplice. Right?

Talking herself up like that was almost working. The prospect was still terrifying, of course. And she was quite literally putting her life in this strange man’s hands. In fact, it wasn’t anything like a court case at all, when she thought about it, and when it came time to get into the backpack, Dawn hesitated. He handed her a piece of cold bagel while she sized up the bag.

“Are you sure about this?” Keith asked, crunching into one of the yeasty rings.

She looked up to him, and his eyes bothered her. They were soft and warm, like a bag of gummy bears left sitting in the sun. Around them were laugh lines, and above, a head of tousled black hair. She wondered if he had some Spanish ancestry; his skin seemed to hold a tan well. How in the world did someone who ran their own business find so much time to go to the beach, anyway? Well, he clearly didn’t need to make much for rent.

“No, but it’s better than sitting around here all day.”

He hefted a sigh and she ignored him as he rolled his eyes. Finishing her bite, she climbed up inside, careful that her doll’s shift didn’t fall away. Inside was just as he’d said: a few rolled up garments to keep her away from the deep bottom of the pack, along with a small paperback and what looked to be a water bottle straight from the freezer.

“In case you get a little warm in there on the way,” he said.

“That’s very kind of you.”

With that he closed the zipper, leaving about three inches undone on the side so she could peer out without being noticed. “How’s that?”

His voice carried strangely inside the bag, surrounding her, and she shivered. It was a charismatic voice, but not the kind of charisma she employed in her own work. In many ways she was still in denial about her state of affairs, about her new dimensions. But it was the little things that were reminding her. The way even his soft words seemed loud, the way his breaths were much longer and deeper than her own, the sheer amount of detail she could see in his hands and face when he got close enough.

“It think it just might work…”

“Hm?”

Suddenly his eyes were all she could see and Dawn started. “Jesus!”

“Sorry, you’ll have to speak up when you’re in there.”

“I said… I think it just might work.”

“Alright,” Keith gently boomed, and the backpack shifted around her. “Hold tight, I’m picking you up.”

Her stomach lurched as he did so, and even though it was clear he was trying to be careful, she was still surprised how much like the Coney Island roller coaster this felt. Up the long inches of his body she went, until, with one last jostle, the bag was seated securely on his shoulder.

“How are we feeling?”

“Like Tweety bird being harassed by Sylvester,” Dawn said, making sure to project her voice more than usual. “But I think I’ll survive.”

“You ready for the subway?”

Her heart sank. “The subway??”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and the backpack moved with him. He yanked open the zipper a little more so he could look at her out of the corner of his eye. “What, you think we’re walking to the Brooklyn Museum?”

“Only the poor take the subway!” she cried. “Get a cab, please!”

“I’m not paying for a cab, it’s one, two, three… six stops away. Besides, nothing interesting happens in a cab.”

“I don’t care about interesting! I care about my safety and sanity! Half those subway cars don’t even have windows, you know! And people get stabbed! Robbed! What if someone stole this backpack??”

“No one’s going to be stabbed, or robbed, or stolen. Now if you don’t like it, you can stay here and get some reading done, but I’m going out, and I’m taking the train whether you like it or not.”

His tone of voice changed a little, it was clear he was getting tired of her protestations. But that didn’t matter, “My god Mr. Morgan if I get so much as as scratch on me from this little adventure of yours, I’ll see you in–”

“No,” he firmly reminded her, “You won’t see me anywhere because you’re a grown woman and you’re not my responsibility.” Keith shrugged her further forward so she was forced to look up at his enormous face as he raised a brow at her. “Now this is the last time I’m asking. Are you coming, yes or no? Your decision, not mine. And don’t make me get it in writing.”

Dawn folded her arms into a pout. “Fine. I can’t believe I’m letting myself be bossed around by an artist…”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

The station itself was worse than sweltering, it was downright hellish. It had to be at least 100 degrees, and Dawn found herself reclining against the water bottle to cool down. Keith, on the other hand, had no such comfort. She heard him take off his baseball cap and wipe the sweat from his face with a heavy sigh as they waited.

Finally, she heard the screeching of the damn thing as it approached the station, and the dead air started to move. As the train pulled in, it whipped cooler air into the backpack, mussing Dawn’s fine, bottle red hair.

“Looks like we got AC,” Keith murmured just loud enough for her to hear, and as soon as the doors dinged open, the blast of climate-controlled air hit her and she could have almost died then and there.

Fortunately, from what she could see, there weren’t many people in the car, and he sat down before maneuvering the backpack into his lap. With a jolt and an incomprehensible announcement over the PA, they were moving again.

With due care, Dawn peered outside of her hiding spot. Everything looked just as she remembered: shabby, caked in graffiti, and vaguely smelly. An empty can rattled around the floor as they stopped and went. After a while, she realized that she was feeling another kind of movement, a subtle rise and fall with Keith’s breaths, and she was perplexed to find it… soothing. He likely had no idea this was happening, though, and like hell would she mention it. Fortunately he was right about the length of the trip, and it was two more stops when he rose again.

“You ever been to the Brooklyn Museum?” he asked as they crossed the street to climb the great steps of the institution. Soon the massive building threw them into sweet shadow.

“No. I rarely come this way at all.”

“Ah, you’re one of those types who only leave Manhattan to go to Florida, aren’t you?” he laughed. He needed to pipe down, someone was sure to think he was a crazy man.

“I’d rather be there than here right now. Now shut up! I don’t want you drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once inside, he paid his admission and began to stroll.

“What are we going to look at?” she asked at a volume only he could hear.

At that he took out the map and stepped into a corner the lobby. “Let’s see,” he said aloud as he hummed and hawwed over it. “Maybe the American art first… then the Egyptian wing… and then maybe a bite at the cafe…”

He spoke like he was mumbling to himself, a clever cover. Dawn had to give him a little credit at least, he wasn’t a complete goof. With that, though, he folded the map up again and she suddenly found it being shoved in her face.

“Hey!”

But Keith ignored her, and finished slipping it into the backpack before setting off. Further inside the galleries, things grew very quiet, and he didn’t say anything more for a little while. Keith ws clearly enjoying himself, it seemed to her like he was visiting with old friends. Most of the time she wasn’t able to see the paintings he was looking at until he had turned to stroll over to the next one, but he was doing his best to give her the same view. Not that it helped any, because she couldn’t figure out what was so impressive about them.

Alright, sure, they were old, and detailed, and probably took a lot of time and skill to complete. But the same could be said of the dictionary, and no one ever gazing longingly at a Webster’s. There were a lot of men doing things on horseback, like fighting, dying, crossing deserts, and working in fields. There were a few landscapes that she could only describe as “very leafy”, and the rest was rolling hills and bowls of fruit with the occasional dead bird.

There was just no way Dawn would hang any of these on the wall of her own apartment. New work, at least, had the decency to be novel and stimulating instead of trying to bog her down with theory and philosophy. Art was all so damn stuffy, and it demanded so much of one’s time, like a pet.

She perked up a little when Keith brought them to the Egyptian wing, finally. It’s not that she has a special affinity for the culture at all, but she could respect ancient art a little more because it was all quite useful. No one ever sat around panting color fields for Pharaoh to ponder, no. Jewelry was jewelry, furniture was furniture, toys were toys, manuscripts were manuscripts, and art depicted real things for reasons she could understand. She’d sooner display a sarcophagus in her home than a Basquiat for just that reason.

The artifacts soon disappeared though, as Keith appeared to take them down a hallway. After a short while he stopped, and she was shuffled around before being set down on a solid surface.

Zip. His face was above her again, looking earnestly in.

“How’s it going?” he whispered.

“I’d prefer to be window-shopping on Fifth but at least it’s cool in here.”

He rolled his eyes again and shook his head. “There’s no pleasing you, is there? Look, I gotta take a leak. Are you cool with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

He glanced around then turned back to her and began zipping up again. “Not really.”

Dawn was knocked down onto her back against the now-wet water bottle as he shouldered her again and rounded a corner. Thankfully, he was gentleman enough to pick a stall before unbuttoning his fly and letting nature call. How humiliating, Dawn thought as she was forced to listen to the heavy stream. At least he washed his hands, unlike some men.

“I’m starving,” he said when he was finished. She couldn’t have agreed more, and a few minutes later she heard the sounds of silverware on plates and the clinking of glasses.

“Table for one, please,” Keith said.

“Right this way, sir.”

[Kisupure]

@olo

holy shit I’m tired now, goodnight

[Olo]

@kisupure Those are some cuddly-looking calves.

[Kisupure]

All I can think of while I write this

[Kisupure]

CHAPTER 5: THE MONKEY-TRAINER

Keith sat down in the crowded cafe attached to the museum. He sat with his back to the wall, and carefully placed the backpack next to him. A waitress came by to bring him water and a menu. He decided he was in the mood for brunch.

“How long are we going to be here?” came the small, muffled voice from inside his bag.

He zipped the bag open a little more, startling Dawn–her feathers were surprisingly easy to ruffle, he was discovering–and she ducked down as his hand brushed past her to reach for his book. “Why, you need to be somewhere?” he said so that only she could hear. Keith watched her indignant expression before grinning and tugging the zipper shut again. “Gimme half an hour. In the meantime… here.”

He turned the backpack so that she could just see out over the table and into the busy cafe. Surely Dawn knew how to people-watch?

When his eggs benedict and glass of house white came, he set the book down and, grabbing a knife and fork, carved out an appropriately-sized bite of bread and egg, giving it the smallest dollop of hollandaise, and went to share it with his guest.

“Psst.”

He placed the bite of food at the edge of the table just in front of the hole in the backpack, and watched as two little arms reached out to snatch it up. It was, for lack of any better word, quite adorable.

As he ate, Keith did some reading (Michael Crichton was one of the few popular fiction writers he trusted with his time), and he did some listening. There was a family of tourists in the corner, a frumpy looking couple and their two children who might’ve been from Cleveland (they couldn’t possibly have chosen a worse time to visit the Big Apple!) and he smiled to himself as he listened to them try to make sense of Georgia O’Keeffe. The wife liked the flowers, but the husband thought the rolling landscapes resembled the sensuality of human flesh a little too much. By his breadwinning measure, the western scenes were more stimulating for the whole family.

A few seats away was a couple who appeared to only be here to have an argument. They leaned in over their plates at the small table like two alley cats standing off, staring intently at the other and speaking in hushed voices as they angrily shoveled sandwiches into their mouths. Keith guessed a divorce was imminent, if not already underway.

Beside him was a businessman shaking out the crisp pages of the Sunday Times every few minutes in a rather uncivilized way. There were several different ways to read a paper, and this man had apparently mastered none of them. He fought with the thing like a knight with a dragon, forcing the newspaper into various contortions as he poured over some bit of text, then grumbling to himself and jotting notes down on a napkin, started the process all over again.

Keith quite enjoyed watching people in this town, it was something of a hobby of his. There was just no shortage of interesting people doing interesting things, and if one couldn’t strike up a conversation to learn more about a stranger, then letting them talk about themselves through their behavior was almost as good.

In the back of his book were a few blank index cards, and he fished a Bic pen out of the pocket of his shorts to begin a little doodling. With simple, confident lines, he followed the contours of his half-eaten brunch, the plate, the empty glass of wine, the salt and pepper shakers, the little box of sugar packets…

“Hey that’s pretty good,” the businessman said. “You an artist?”

“I am,” Keith replied, quite skilled at graciously taking random compliments by this point in his life without letting them effect him much. “And thanks.”

“Whaddyou, uh… you do drawings or somethin’?”

“Sculpture, actually. Mostly furniture, though. I do a lot of tables.” He grabbed a business card from his wallet and handed it over. KEMO Inc. it read.

“Ah, shame. Was lookin’ for somethin’ new for the office, yannow?”

“I’ve gotta friend showing on 37th right now, at the Stanley Greer Gallery. She’s popular with the corporate crowd. You might check her out.” He knew the businessman wouldn’t, but it never hurt to mention these sorts of things.

“Hey, thanks. And say… you mind me askin’ whatchu got in the bag?”

Keith stopped and the back of his neck suddenly prickled with heat. His eyes darted down to the navy blue backpack, then back up to the man, and Keith found himself laughing nervously to buy him a moment.

“What, uh… what makes you think I’ve got something?”

The businessman smirked and adjusted himself in his seat so he could lean in and speak low. “C’mon… I know a monkey when I see one. You got a monkey in there, dontcha? One of those little guys, like in the movies.”

Keith laughed harder, relieved. Dawn must’ve been furious, if she hadn’t fainted from panic.

“Not so loud,” Keith whispered, playing into it. “I’m still training her. Don’t want the staff to know I brought an animal in here.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Can I uh… can I see 'er? Just a peek? Only time I seen a monkey was at the Bronx Zoo when I was a kid.”

“No can do, I’m afraid,” he said sagely. “The… the Madagascar, uh, Doll-Faced Monkey is very sensitive to… to socialization. I’m getting her used to voices, right now.”

The businessman blinked and nodded, pretending he understood. “Oh yeah, of course. Of course. Don’t let me throw off your training.”

It occurred to him then, though, that he had the perfect opportunity to make a defense attorney squirm. And dammit, he couldn’t pass it up. Keith leaned over the backpack and gave it a pat.

“She’s doing really well though. Aren’t you, girl? Here, let me get you another bite.”

He broke off a piece of ham and balanced it on his finger before holding it up to the gap in the zipper.

“Come on,” he teased. “You know you want some…”

He pushed his finger just inside, when he felt her snatch up the ham and give him a hard slap.

“Ow!” he laughed. “She’s in a mood today. I think I’d better get going soon. It was nice meeting you.”

As soon as they were outside, Keith had barely adjusted his cap and put on his shades when there was movement coming from the backpack. Angry movement, it seemed. Like something was trying to hit him through the fabric.

“Hey now, hold on,” he said, looking for a secluded spot in the park behind the museum where they could converse. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he found a patch of lawn by some lilac bushes where he could set her down and unzip the bag.

“What the hell was that!” Dawn yelled as soon as she could see him. “You almost gave me a stroke!”

Keith laid down on his side in the grass next to her, and shrugged. “It was just a little harmless fun.” You could really learn to lighten up, he thought.

“Harmless?” she barked in that squeaky voice of hers. “More like humiliating! My god, to add insult to injury…”

He frowned. “Now don’t be like that, I saved your butt just now. Better a pet monkey than a twelve-inch Dawn Cooper, attorney at law, don’t forget.”

She fumed as some people walked by and Keith pretended his attention was elsewhere for a moment.

“Honest question, Dawn.”

“What.”

“What’s your idea of fun?”

“Oh don’t start with me.”

“No, really.” He rolled over onto his back and looked up through the leafy canopy above. “What do you do to cut loose after a long week?”

“I don’t ‘cut loose’.”

He snorted. “So, what, you do lines of coke and just get more work done?”

“Of course not!” she huffed, also quite adorably. “I like exercising.”

“Exercising? That’s not very relaxing.”

“It is to me!”

“What else?”

“I… I cook, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“I try to make dinner once a week.”

“Uh huh. And what else?”

“What am I, on the stand?”

He grinned up at the tree. “Yeah, sure.”

“I…” Now this one she hesitated with. He knew it was going to be juicy. “I enjoy going on blind dates.”

Keith couldn’t help rolling over again to face her. His expression was one of raw amusement. “Oh! Now we’re getting somewhere!”

“Oh, stop it. I’m a grown woman, I can do as I damn well please.”

But he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face, and the next thing that came out of his mouth surprised him. He could possibly blame it on the wine, at least. “Well, you barely know me, why don’t you pretend this is all just one blind date?”

Dawn looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Why in the world would I do that?”

“Might have a little more fun that way.”

“Fun, you big, stupid man, is standing six-foot in red heels, and convincing someone you just met that he can’t possibly go on living without you.”

He stroked his chin and grinned wider. “Ah, so you do like 'em big and stupid, then?”

“Ugh! You’re impossible.”

“Incorrigible, I believe is the word.” He zipped the backpack up again. “Now come on, let’s see if you can convince me that I can’t go on living without you by the time we’re done here.”

[Olo]

@kisupure Dawn could use an assistant like Rosalind.

[Olo]

@kisupure True story: I have a mongrel rescue dog that I take to the dog park. Occasionally people there try to guess his breed, and I have a little fun making up an obscure breed that they’ve never heard of. My go-to is “Madagascan Zebu Hound.”

[Kisupure]

@olo Ah yes! The majestic Zebu! I hear they have issues with their, uh, glands? Fur? Something like that.

And I’m sure Dawn would MUCH prefer to do the shrinking, if she had her way. Though I’m sure she can make an assistant feel inches tall with a word and a look.

[Olo]

@kisupure said in Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]:

I’m sure Dawn would MUCH prefer to do the shrinking, if she had her way. Though I’m sure she can make an assistant feel inches tall with a word and a look.

If she makes partner at the right firm, anything is possible.

[tinyborrower]

I am loving the dynamic between Dawn and Keith! Such fun, vibrant characters to read about! Can’t wait to see where you take us

[Kisupure]

@olo Glad I got out of the legal industry when I did

@tinyborrower Glad you’re enjoying it! Out of all my years in the kink, I have to say - this is my first straight-up SW story I’ve ever written, believe it or not. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long, but it’s so far a very fun change of pace.

Now let’s see if I can finish it before I recover!

[Kisupure]

CHAPTER 6: THE JACKASS

Dawn was furious. Insulted. Positively annoyed. Keith–her gigantic and all around lackadaisical tease of a keeper–was really beginning to get on her nerves. Why couldn’t she have fallen into the hands of literally anyone else in New York? A banker would have been nice. They’d at least be able to see eye to eye.

It was as if he didn’t have a care in the world. No schedule, no responsibilities, no sense of urgency for anything. How could someone get through life like this? Surely he wasn’t the financial brains behind his so-called business?

And now he was determined to make a damn fool of her. Dawn’s “kind” weren’t often appreciated until one was in a tight place, she knew that. And she didn’t care. Everyone swears against the devil, but as soon as you need to strike a deal with him, it’s funny how quickly the song changes. As they walked through the park she imagined Keith groveling on her office rug, begging her to represent him in a ludicrous and predatory lawsuit. Poor thing! You couldn’t afford me, she’d tell him, and slam the door in his handsome face.

Handsome?

Well, he wasn’t half-bad looking.

As Keith waved his membership card at the admission both, they strolled in and he said in a low voice: “Now remember, this is a date. Try to enjoy yourself.”

This wasn’t a date and she absolutely would not, thank you very much.

It was afternoon by now and possibly the hottest part of the day. He should have gone to the gardens first and finished with the museum, she thought balefully. However, the trees cast decent shadows and there weren’t as many people about as there could have been, she imagined. He took them to the Japanese garden first, and she had to admit that it was beautifully manicured. She always felt she had some spiritual quality in common with the Japanese; their pursuit of perfection, rigor, and straightforward utilitarian aesthetic struck her as sensible. And she found the ritual of the sushi restaurant to be one of life’s finer pleasures.

“Have you ever eaten sushi?” she called out, mostly out of boredom.

“Raw fish and horseradish? No way,” he said back.

Dawn smiled to herself, a sharp little expression that she was often fond of weaponizing. Finally, she had something on him.

“You mean to tell me that in all your cultured explorations, you’ve never once even thought about it? Didn’t think anything was too highbrow for you.”

He stopped in a particularly nice bit of shade as a little breeze picked up and brought cooler air off the pond. It was heavenly.

“It’s just not my thing. Now isn’t this nice?”

How dare he just… brush her off like that! If she was her normal size and this was a real date, she would have command of the conversation. She would have him wrapped around her finger by now. He’d be eating whatever she told him to eat.

She was jostled again, though, as he set her down on the ground to take a peek inside with a quizzical look on his face.

Dawn frowned and blinked. “What?”

“I was expecting some acerbic response and didn’t get one. Wanted to make sure you were still with me.”

“Some acerbic–! You know what, how about you try being attacked on the landing to your apartment, shrunk down to however the hell tall this is, thrown in the fucking garbage, and then dragged around Brooklyn in this heat by some strange man who’s trying to flirt with you without getting a little frustrated!”

A crease formed between his brows as he looked down at her. “So you didn’t want to come after all.”

“That’s not what I said! You don’t get it.”

“No, I think I get it perfectly well. Come on, I’m leaving. This isn’t going to be as nice of a walk as I was hoping it would be.”

Dawn knew his mood had changed when he hailed a cab home. The backpack was handled roughly as he slid into the back seat of the air-conditioned Crown Vic and told the driver his cross streets. They were back at his place in a matter of minutes, and in no time he was taking them up those horrible creaky stairs to the third floor. Key in lock, door open.

The backpack was put on the floor, and he opened it rather brusquely, in her opinion, before walking away to go to the kitchen. She heard water running as he filled a cup.

Dawn was left to pull herself from the bag and straighten out that horrible dress. She was going to follow him and demand to know what his problem was, but she was too small to make it up the stairs to the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” she yelled up at him.

The artist took a long swig of water from what looked to be a beer pint, and she watched as his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbed high above her head.

“You don’t have the faintest idea of how rude you are, do you?”

Keith leaned against a wooden guard rail that looked like it’d taken at least 100 coats of paint over the years and had that bloated look to it.

“Being nice doesn’t exactly get you anywhere in this town.”

Exasperated, he disappeared from view and poured himself more water. “I was trying to help,” he called down to her. “I was trying to take your mind off how damned awful your situation is, and boy am I sorry for trying.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have let someone see me and then pretend I was a goddamn ape!”

“You’re human! You are an ape!”

“I don’t think you appreciate how bad this is for me. If I can’t get back to normal, then I’m out of a job! Everything I’ve worked for, my client base, my position, my… my figure! All of it, wasted!”

There was silence for a moment.

“How come you said you didn’t want to be alone?”

Dawn opened her mouth and closed it again. Eventually, Keith appeared at the top of the stairs and in that easy way of his, ambled carefully down, eyeing her.

“I’m not used to spending much time by myself, I guess,” she said stiffly. “I’m rarely home.”

Keith held up a finger as he crossed the floor to the couch and sat down. His back was to her. “That’s not what I heard in your voice this morning.” He grabbed one of the expensive art books and began flipping through it.

“Oh? And what did you hear?” she snapped.

She heard him suck in a breath. “I heard a woman who was terrified to be stuck alone with her own thoughts and was begging to be distracted. Maybe to feel a little taken care of.”

Dawn couldn’t help the snort as she folded her arms and blushed deeply. “Don’t be ridiculous… I can’t believe I’m listening to a man tell me how I feel,” she huffed incredulously.

He flipped a few more pages. “Am I wrong though? I mean, I’m happy to be wrong if that means you’re just a jackass instead.”

And just like that, he had her cornered. Her shoulders slumped and she fingered a lock of hair. But after a moment her frown turned into a smile; maybe Keith was a little more clever and ruthless than she’d first imagined.

Dawn crossed the floor as he continued busying himself with the book and appeared beside the end of the sectional, where she stood near one of his huge Chuck Taylored feet and looked up, up, and into that face she had evidently underestimated. Alright, so he was handsome. Sue me, she thought.

“I’m not used to being called a jackass,” she said quietly.

“I don’t like the word bitch.”

“Oh I hear it all the time.”

He smiled a little and shook his head.

“It’s not often someone can beat me at my own game like that.”

He quirked a brow at her, then gently closed his book and leaned back. “And let me guess, you like that in a big, stupid man?”

She didn’t answer, and it was Keith’s turn to blush. He looked away and stood up quickly, and she gasped at how big he suddenly was, then wanted to laugh at catching him off guard. He went to the kitchen stairs again and clapped his hands together. “How about, ah, wine coolers and a game of poker? You can play Hold 'Em, you think?”

“Sounds great,” she said. “But could we go someplace cooler? I’m dying out here.”

[Olo]

@kisupure I remain impressed with how quickly you’re knocking this out. The dialogue is sharp and evokes a real meet-cute.