White or Red

Warning: Rated PG-13


"White or red?" Henry asked.

"White. Definitely white." I replied, carrying our plates to the table.

"Really? I thought you liked red."

"I do," I felt myself blushing.

"Interesting. Now, I have to know what's making you turn so pink."

"It's just that," I started, "you know how tequila can make some people lose their cool?"

"Yeah," Henry said slowly.

"Well, red wine is," I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, "red wine is not what I should be drinking if I want to keep my wits."

"We're not exactly playing chess," Henry teased. "We're having dinner."

"Red wine is dangerous," I hedged.

"This, I've got to hear."

"It's rich and deep and heavy," I explained, sinking into my thoughts. "The tannins fill your mouth, making it tingle. Your tongue comes to life, your lips go numb. It warms a path down your body tightening your fingers and toes. It's," I laughed uncertainly, returning to him, "dangerous."

Henry's eyes darkened. He deliberately pulled the cork out of the bottle of cabernet and filled a glass. Handing it to me, he rasped, "I like dangerous."

The look in his eyes made me take a half step back. Gulping a mouthful of wine, I stared at him warily. His eyes locked on my mouth. He stepped closer until his body was pressed to mine. He took the glass out of my hand and placed it on the table. Setting his hands on my hips, he lowered his head. "Dangerous can be fun," he murmured against my lips.

His mouth played across mine. His tongue teased and stroked until I melted into him. He wrapped one arm around my waist and cradled my head with his other hand. He trailed kisses across my cheek, down my jaw. I clung to his shoulders.

"Um...Henry...I'm not sure..."

He gently bit my earlobe, sending a shiver down through me. "It sure seems like a good idea to me." He walked me backwards, capturing me against the wall. His hands slid up, caressing the bare skin under my shirt.

"I thought," I gasped, as he filled his hand, "we...were..."

"Going to take it slow?" He shifted against me, his thigh sliding between mine. "Sweetheart, I can promise you I'll take it real slow."

"Your bed or mine?" I moaned.

He reached both hands to cup my butt and lifted me against him. "I don't think we're going to make it to the bed."

"I thought," I breathed, "you were," I worked his belt buckle free, "going to go slow."

He pulled at the buttons of my blouse. "Wait." Henry panted. "I don't have protection."

His words were like ice water. Unwrapping my legs from around his waist, I tried to stand.

"Actually, as long as you have a clean bill of health, you don't need to worry about it," I said, avoiding his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Henry frowned, his breaths coming slower as he lifted my chin with a finger.

I forced a smile to my face. "I can't have children, so you don't have to worry about getting me pregnant," I said lightly. I pulled the sides of my blouse together and tried to slide from between him and the wall.

Henry blocked my way with his arm. "Ellie," he whispered.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I swallowed. "Let's just forget about it, okay? I'm really hungry and that dinner smells great." I pushed his arm away. My fingers trembled as I buttoned my blouse.

Suddenly, that glass of wine sounded like a good idea. White this time.


This post was inspired by The Red Dress Club prompt: write about what your character wants most. This post takes place after The Blouse. It's a little complicated with Henry and Ellie. He wants her, she wants him, but what she really wants, she can't have.

If you want to read more about Henry and Ellie, click on Fictional Mandyland.
Special shout outs have to go to CDG, Ash and Kelly for all their help.