Tea Parties in Boston

66 - Promises

January 1st, 2023, Boston

Logan and Rory had had the mature version of New Years Eve. They'd been uninterested in going out to some big party, going out to watch the fireworks around town or even to bother opening a bottle of bubbly. It had all just felt so done and since they had the evening to themselves a simple takeaway meal in bed at Logan's apartment had been everything they'd felt like, while watching some indie film, had seemed like perfection.

About half-way through the movie they'd taken a much more literal approach to 'mature' and Rory had very decisively climbed to Logan's lap in an attempt to distract him, the cowgirl having become their newest favorite position since Nantucket, showing off Rory's bold moves.

They'd kissed lengthily, just enjoying the touch of the other's fingers against their skin. They knew each-other's bodies so well that they could really just play the other like an instrument - a little tug here, a little lick there, a light brush of a finger on the right spot and the right amount of momentum at a mindblowing first thrust, that caused both of them to gasp out of ecstasy. It was no longer just about the end goal, but just as much about the process, each move and sensation holding something close to a mini-orgasm if one's mind was in the right place. And that they were - content, in love and at the same place at the same time both mentally and physically.

Rory had ridden both of them into a victorious orgasm, their fingers intertwined as if attempting to ride a bicycle without hands. Their ability to read each other was second nature by now, each angle and intensity holding a specific purpose when they had the end goal in mind.

After collapsing next to each-other, kissing some more and giggling like teenagers at the joy of being naked in bed at their age and not caring about a damn thing in the present moment, Rory headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"I got you something," Rory said, returning to bed, where Logan laid, still sweaty and naked. She'd picked up another item from her purse on her way back.

Logan turned halfway, casually draping a bed sheet over his waist.

He recognized it in an instant.

"What is this? A second Christmas?" Logan asked, crooking his eyebrows.

"Don't make me regret this..," Rory said, trying to sound like this was no big deal, and handed him the book.

"Thank you," Logan exhaled slowly, meaning it from the bottom of his heart, his gaze lingering on her for a moment.

Rory, dressed in a simple bamboo robe, settled back to her side of the bed.

Logan felt like he held the holy grail in his hands - or something equally exclusive. ˇThis wasn't something that money could buy.

Its cover held a watercolor painting of the gazebo turned into a carouselle, symbolizing the wheel of life that just kept turning. It had silhouettes of characters - men, women, older and younger, none of them drawn out to be recognizable. The book felt light in his hands - after all it was just 150 pages or so, a hardcover but still printed on fairly thin paper. To him that was unexpected, having anticipated something that had been so important to Rory, something that had caused so much drama and needed to be made so unattainable to feel more substantial in his hands.

"Can I read it now?" Logan asked, despite being fairly certain it was going to be a 'No'. Suddenly, despite the afterglow, he wasn't feeling tired at all.

"If you must," Rory said, burying her face in the pillow for a moment.

"I kind of want to...," Logan replied, turning eagerly to the first page, where the foreword was written.