Story Summary: Eric's thought's from the August 24 ep. where Greta cozies up.
I feel movement and I turn quickly, I try to convince myself it is
because of Greta’s stories of ghosts but I know it’s not . . . it’s her.
Well, when a guy is laying on a cool castle floor and a *very* warm body
jumps under the sheets with him, he tends to notice in a hurry but when
a guy knows it’s Greta crawling in next to him . . . Let’s just say ‘oh
boy’.
I’m looking at her now; her soft skin is so pale in the mix of moon and fire light bouncing off the stone walls. I’m starting to think, just maybe, that all those late night thought’s I’ve been shooing away have been trying to prepare me for something.
“Are you sure about this?” Did my voice just squeak . . . it felt like it.
She’s saying something now but the reaction my damn body is going through is doubled with the dazzling smile she is giving me, both of which are making it difficult for anything to reach my numb brain. I silently hope she’s not noticing my eyes are trained on her lips as she tells me she wasn’t really looking for a romantic interlude. Wait . . . no interlude?
I smile at her and sigh in relief, relief because I know after this I could never think of Nikki ever again, and, truth be told, I kinda want to be ‘Bitter Guy’ for a while, but, if Greta had said yes . . . Ah, I am a bad, bad man. With one last smile we turn away, I toward the fireplace to think of the reasons why I’m scum.
Well, first and foremost I was about to seduce my best friend. No, I wouldn’t have, I love Nikki . . . then why would I have become Greta’s love slave if she had asked? No, no, I love Nikki . . . ah, okay so I’m lying. I’m beginning to think it is more bitterness than love. I’m thinking this because of Greta.
Uh-oh, she moved, more specifically, moved against me, arms around me. Ohhhh, bad, bad images . . . I’m going to hell. And not just regular hell, no, this would be that special part of hell for those who lust after their best friends. I’m evil. Look at me, here I am, a horrible, typical, horny male pig, that’s it. I’m practically drooling over poor, sweet, innocent, virginal Greta.
Virginal Greta . . .
Which means I would be her first lover . . .
Ooo, bad body surge . . . Stop! This isn’t a good thing, I’m quickly making my thoughts very obvious, well, more so than when she first came to me, and she *is* right on me. All she has to do is open her eyes and look down then she’d see and then maybe she would . . . BAD. I look to the ceiling for some sort of divine thing to save me before I commit the unspoken eleventh sin; ‘Thou shall not make moves on thy best friend’. I gotta think of other stuff, what though? Baseball? Too cliché and it doesn’t work anyway when her warm hand is gently stroking my chest in a sleepy motion like it is now. She doesn’t even know, doesn’t know she’s torturing me.
Uh oh, now she’s moaning, God, someone kill me. Its not even a big moan, no just a light little happy-Greta moan and . . . She’s moving closer, why is that happening she’s moving . . .Okay, her fingers have moved up to the base of my neck and is pulling me down a little now . . . OH MY GOD.
She kissing me, I can not believe Greta Von Amburgh is kissing me. Her lips are soft when they touch mine but they are firm as they press against mine, it makes me want her more than I already do. Want this woman who had invoked things Nikki never touched. Greta had done this even before we kissed, even before she felt the need to seek shelter under my sheets. My brain is now ceasing to function; she’s just too over whelming.
She’s pulling away, her eyes still in sleep as I fully realize she’s kissed me, it was the most mind-blowing, amazing, wonderful experience I’ve had since I stopped thinking of girls as people who can give me candy if I pretend I like them. But now . . . now she’s turning away, its over, she’s still asleep and its over.
She doesn’t even know, but it’s enough for now.
Soon though . . .
The last thought comforts me as I roll over too, spooning her, enveloping her in my arms. As I breathe in the sent of her shampoo I began to think that maybe breaking the unspoken eleventh commandment, even with the consequences, is worth the bad when my best friend is Greta.
