The Girl Who Sleeps With a Knife

The drive to Rocko's place was long and quiet, the absence of Joan's voice made it seem even longer to Rocko. Joan sat curled in his army jacket like a kitten by a warm fire, her boots sat askew on the floor of the car; she dossed off and on to the gentle hum of the engine. Rocko stared at the road, only focusing on the path in which to take to get to his home; afraid of his unsettling thoughts, he wished that Joan would soon awaken a question or a complaint. He couldn't stop thinking about her reaction when he brought up Steven; how quiet she had gotten; her look of defeat, he's been there.
In the heart of Buffalo, Rocko turned into a neighborhood called "Homes of Venice" filled with some of the nicest houses that anyone would ever see, each on varying from lavish mansions to cozy hobbit holes. Rocko lived in a hobbit hole since it was only him, but once he was about to park in his drive way, he found that Joan was still asleep; so, instead of parking, he decided to cruise the neighborhood until she awoke. No later, she stretched and opened her eyes, "Are we there yet?" she asked, but just as the words left her mouth, she was in awe. She had never seen such beautiful homes.
"You live here?" she asked.
"Yeah," he smiled,"my...um, uncle was an architect, he founded this neighborhood. When my father came to America with his six other brothers and sisters, you can imagine how crowded everyone was in an apartment. It started out as just homes for our family to live comfortably, but then more and more immigrants need a place to stay, now more rich people stay here than immigrants do."
"Yo," she said in awe,"Your pop's a mechanic, your uncle's an architect, what the hell is your aunt?"
"She's a judge," he answered.
"Solid."Joan held up her fist,"Power to the women of color. So is your crib small? Like a hobbit hole?"
He furrowed his brow,"The hell's a "hobbit hole"?"
"Yo you never read a book?" she asked,"You know, "In the hole in the ground there was a hobbit; not a nasty dirty hole but a hobbit hole and that means comfort.""
"I must've missed that book," he said,"But yeah it is comfortable if that's what you're saying."
Once he pulled up to the house, she was struck by the simplicity and elegance of it. She hurried out the car to take a closer look at the plants in the front lawn. Out of all the rough and tough that was Joan Rockett, she absolutely adored plant life--of all kind: weeds, dandelion, flowers, grass, trees, she even loved reading about carnivorous plants.
"The flowers are so beautiful," she said," and the grass is so green."
"Joan, it's the end of October the flowers are dying."
"Even so, man;the deaths of the flowers are beautiful, because there is no question that come Spring time, these puppies will spring back to life," she looked at him,"I mean, ya man, plants are cool beans." He looked at her with a confused look,"What?" she asked.
"C'mon we should get inside, it's freezing out here."
After Rocko hurriedly opened the door, Joan gazed at the coziness that his house omitted, "It is like a hobbit hole," she told him. They went into the living room, where some chopped wood was waiting to be started, and Joan plopped on the couch before it the fireplace. Rocko had set the fireplace ablaze before he comforted himself on the couch; she felt a nervousness that she never thought she was capable of feeling. She had been with many men, sat on lots of couches, and made lots of love in living rooms; but she had never felt the intensity of a man who wanted more from her than her crotch.
"I'm really tired out, man," Joan mumbled,"But I like you too much to sleep."
Rocko moved so close to her that you could place a 3-page magazine between them and it wouldn't slip. He placed his palms on either side of her face and steadily leaned in. He stopped. Their faces centimeters apart. It was as if Rocko was waiting for permission to kiss her, but he wasn't; he was wanting Joan to close the gap between them and she did. They kissed her each other furiously, as if they were mad at each other. Joan removed the jacket, and that was the first time she did all night. Neither of them thought about anything except how much more they wanted each other; Joan tugged at his waist, trying to pull him closer but it was impossible. Rocko's hands stayed right where they were, while Joan couldn't help but feel him up.
"You gotta stop being afraid to touch me,"she whispered in his ear before sucking on his neck. He squeezed her ass through her skirt as she, still sucking his neck, felt up his back; she found it was stubbly and muscly with three long scars going diagonally to the right.
'So he wasn't lying', she thought,'Being scratched by a jungle cat sounded to crazy to be the truth.'
They kept kissing but soon enough they both stood and undressed as quickly as they could. But then they just stood there staring at each other's naked body. Gently Rocko pushed Joan against a wall, this aroused her even more; he gently grabbed her waist,and she wrapped her arms around his neck; he lifted one of her thighs around his waist and she did so with the other. Carefully, he placed himself inside her, stopping half-way.
"Put it all in, babe," she moaned,"I can take it."
So he slid all of him inside her, and she moaned as he did. After a second of adjusting, he began to move. Gradually, he thrust himself in and out of her faster and faster. She moaned his name, and he moaned hers.
"You're so wet, Joan."
"That's all you baby," not a second later, she released herself. A second later he did the same. Wary, sore and sweaty, they both collapse on the floor. A moment later, they crawled on the couch together; Joan was barely awake when he asked,"What did Steven do to you?"