Status: active
I Want to Know What Love Is
1
Delia was curled up on the couch watching IRONMAN. It was storming and she couldn't sleep. So she had popped some popcorn and started the movie. She was deeply engrossed when a loud bang sounded at her door. She jumped, causing the remaining popcorn to scatter on to the floor. She paused the movie then gotta up.
She grabbed her .45 1911 Smith & Wesson. She tip toed to the front door. She peeked out the peep hole. She couldn't see anything. She carefully opened the door and looked around.
On the ground, sat a black lump figure. It groaned. She placed the semi-automatic in the waist band of her pants behind her. She cautiously approached the lump. She rolled it over.
It was a middle-aged man. Her brain told her to run back inside and lock the doors and windows. But her heart said help him. So she did. Being a buck sixty woman, she had the strength of a two ten man.
She placed an arm under one arm and around his torso. She put an arm around her neck. She heaved him up and carried him inside. She got him to her couch. She grabbed her holster and put it on.
She placed her gun in it then went to go get her mobile first aid kit. She got a basin of warm water and a rag. She walked back to the living room. She began to clean him up. She gently pressed the rag to his face.
His breathing slowed to a rhythm. There was something about him that made her feel for him. At one moment, she paused and just stared at him. His eyes flew open. Her heartbeat quickened.
She wanted to move away but she was frozen in her spot. His eyes held her gaze. "Hello, darling," he said in a tired raspy voice. He gave her a tired smile. "Hello, yourself," she said in a low rumbly whisper.
Finally she moved her hand. "Got into a nasty brawl, didn'tcha?" She moved to get the triple antibiotic ointment. She grabbed a cotton swab. Carefully, she applied it to the wounds.
"Why are you being nice to me?" Her eyes found his. "Well, I found you on my door step. Couldn't really leave you there in this state now could I?" Her voice was normal. It was heavy with a southern accent.
Of course, she was in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. A quarter Cherokee and a quarter Choctaw. She placed bandages on. Once she finished, she cleaned up. She went to the bathroom to wash her hands.
She returned to the living room. "Can I get you something to eat?" she asked. He shook his head no. Then he asked, "Do you have any scotch?" She pursed her lips.
"No but I got a bottle of Jack." He smirked at her. "They are pretty much the same, darling." She shook her head this time. "That may be, but ours is filtered through sugar maple charcoal and comes from Tennessee."
He touched a finger to his lips. She watched his finger move. Her gaze paused on his lips. She wanted to kiss those lips. She tore her gaze away.
She got up to go to the kitchen. She shook her head. She was seriously losing it. She got two eight ounce tumblers. She reached for her bottle of Jack.
She filled them up three-fourths of the way. She capped the bottle then put it back in its place. She carried both to the living room. She handed one to him. His hand brushed against hers as he took the glass.
Her eyes met his. "Relax, darling. I'm not going to hurt you. Especially after you helped me tonight." She nodded as she sipped on her drink. It warmed her throat as it slide down to her stomach.
"What is your name?" he asked her. "Delia...Cordelia." He smiled softly at her. "Crowley. A pleasure to meet you, darling." Her heart skipped a beat at being called Darling.
She heard a loud thunder clap. She jumped. "No need to be frightened." She looked at him. Her bottom lip quivered a bit.
His hand held hers. "It's nothing but a nature symphony." She nodded her head. She never thought of it that way. "Wait how are you not soaking wet?" she asked.
"It wasn't raining when I got here," he said. She raised an eyebrow. She knocked back the rest of her drink. She placed it on the coffee table. She stifled a yawn.
Before she knew it, she was fighting sleep. "Don't fight it Cordelia. I'll watch over you." She hid another yawn. She curled up in a ball and covered herself in a blanket. He sat beside her and watched her sleep.
She grabbed her .45 1911 Smith & Wesson. She tip toed to the front door. She peeked out the peep hole. She couldn't see anything. She carefully opened the door and looked around.
On the ground, sat a black lump figure. It groaned. She placed the semi-automatic in the waist band of her pants behind her. She cautiously approached the lump. She rolled it over.
It was a middle-aged man. Her brain told her to run back inside and lock the doors and windows. But her heart said help him. So she did. Being a buck sixty woman, she had the strength of a two ten man.
She placed an arm under one arm and around his torso. She put an arm around her neck. She heaved him up and carried him inside. She got him to her couch. She grabbed her holster and put it on.
She placed her gun in it then went to go get her mobile first aid kit. She got a basin of warm water and a rag. She walked back to the living room. She began to clean him up. She gently pressed the rag to his face.
His breathing slowed to a rhythm. There was something about him that made her feel for him. At one moment, she paused and just stared at him. His eyes flew open. Her heartbeat quickened.
She wanted to move away but she was frozen in her spot. His eyes held her gaze. "Hello, darling," he said in a tired raspy voice. He gave her a tired smile. "Hello, yourself," she said in a low rumbly whisper.
Finally she moved her hand. "Got into a nasty brawl, didn'tcha?" She moved to get the triple antibiotic ointment. She grabbed a cotton swab. Carefully, she applied it to the wounds.
"Why are you being nice to me?" Her eyes found his. "Well, I found you on my door step. Couldn't really leave you there in this state now could I?" Her voice was normal. It was heavy with a southern accent.
Of course, she was in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. A quarter Cherokee and a quarter Choctaw. She placed bandages on. Once she finished, she cleaned up. She went to the bathroom to wash her hands.
She returned to the living room. "Can I get you something to eat?" she asked. He shook his head no. Then he asked, "Do you have any scotch?" She pursed her lips.
"No but I got a bottle of Jack." He smirked at her. "They are pretty much the same, darling." She shook her head this time. "That may be, but ours is filtered through sugar maple charcoal and comes from Tennessee."
He touched a finger to his lips. She watched his finger move. Her gaze paused on his lips. She wanted to kiss those lips. She tore her gaze away.
She got up to go to the kitchen. She shook her head. She was seriously losing it. She got two eight ounce tumblers. She reached for her bottle of Jack.
She filled them up three-fourths of the way. She capped the bottle then put it back in its place. She carried both to the living room. She handed one to him. His hand brushed against hers as he took the glass.
Her eyes met his. "Relax, darling. I'm not going to hurt you. Especially after you helped me tonight." She nodded as she sipped on her drink. It warmed her throat as it slide down to her stomach.
"What is your name?" he asked her. "Delia...Cordelia." He smiled softly at her. "Crowley. A pleasure to meet you, darling." Her heart skipped a beat at being called Darling.
She heard a loud thunder clap. She jumped. "No need to be frightened." She looked at him. Her bottom lip quivered a bit.
His hand held hers. "It's nothing but a nature symphony." She nodded her head. She never thought of it that way. "Wait how are you not soaking wet?" she asked.
"It wasn't raining when I got here," he said. She raised an eyebrow. She knocked back the rest of her drink. She placed it on the coffee table. She stifled a yawn.
Before she knew it, she was fighting sleep. "Don't fight it Cordelia. I'll watch over you." She hid another yawn. She curled up in a ball and covered herself in a blanket. He sat beside her and watched her sleep.