Quarterplay
By Missy

TITLE: Quarterplay
AUTHOR: Missy
FANDOM: Laverne & Shirley
EMAIL: wavinguniverse@yahoo.com
RATING: R (Adult content, sexual situations, language)
DISCLAIMER: Doesn't belong to me - belongs to Garry Marshall and Paramount.
CATEGORY: Drama/Smut
PAIRING: Laverne/Lenny
SUMMARY: When it starts, it doesn't stop.
NOTES: Valentine's Day fic for 2009

***

It begins in a shoebox of a motel room, with a bottle of raspberry scented lotion and a sunburn she can't reach. She knows she should stop him, but his hands feel so nice, and the lotion's so cool on her skin...

They intertwine with an instinctive knowledge that bangs through her blood, the frantic feelings akin to pain in the pleasure that fills her now.

She sleeps in the shallow of his shoulder, water rushing in around the cracks of the windowpane and traffic blaring by on Sunset Boulevard.

**

It reaches its fevered peak in the middle of the seventies. Her shag carpet burns his knees and makes a red rash spring up on the back of her neck; his waterbed provides a springy paradise when she flies in for the weekend (her husband thinks she's visiting relatives in New York).

Every surface offers itself up for their passion - every passing chance for love is taken without hesitation.

He expiates his guilt on his knees - she feels none, radiant, flushed with the thrill of it all. The other can't give her what she needs, being a closed-mouth-kissing-in-the-dark sort of guy.

She tells her best friend that she's happy, and never tells her why.

***

When it ends, she's with him, holding his hand as the monitor decelerates. She remembers the small things - the song he wrote, the "Patented Singing Finger Stick"; the way he wanted to marry her; the way he finally had, fulfilling the promise he'd made to himself years ago.

She's shocked by the emptiness of it now, the glares of his children, bitter still at the choice she made to marry their father.

When he's gone, she's all that's left.


The End











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