Rick Grimes thought there was something to be said for a good cold beer. Usually it took a lot of his worries away. Well, that wasn't entirely true. It didn't take his worries away. It just made it easier to ignore them for the night so they came crashing back on him in the morning. The only problem was tonight it wasn't working as well as usual because the problem was bigger than ever.
He and Lori were heading for a divorce. He'd moved into his own place earlier that day and he already hated it. All he could think about was the sad look on both Carl and Lori's face as he'd taken his two boxes of belongings and drove away but he knew one thing for sure: He and Lori, regardless how sad, couldn't keep on the way they were. The fights were never-ending and that hurt Carl a lot more than a divorce could. He deserved to be raised by single but happy parents, not parents who stayed married but were increasingly bitter and constantly arguing. He didn't need to learn that marriage was a hateful, spiteful struggle between two people but a loving relationship. It was time to call it quits, more for their son than for anything else. So, he'd already decided, Lori and Carl would get the house. He'd pay his child support and share custody and…hate every fucking day of his lonely life.
"You look like the world just came to an end."
Hadn't it? Rick smiled at the bartender. Tara Chambler. She was a good girl. He knew her fiancé, Denise, who was his son's pediatrician. His mirthless smile confirmed what she suspected.
"Another fight with Lori?"
"Worse. We've agreed to divorce. I moved into my own place tonight."
Tara looked genuinely saddened for the news. She knew both him and Lori from the times when they'd come into Abe's Bar & Grill for a drink, but then it was just him, and she'd formed more of a relationship with Rick than she had with Lori.
"Fuck, man, I'm so sorry."
"Me too."
"This one's on me," she said, and passed him another mug of beer, which he gladly accepted.
"What's your plan for tonight? Drink yourself silly then go home to your new place alone?"
"I don't know that I have a plan," Rick said. "I'm just gonna take it one drink at a time."
He took the mug back to his booth and leaned back. The place was dead, which wasn't a surprise on a Thursday night. The crowds wouldn't really show up until the next night, when he'd be arresting people as they left the place, probably a little less drunk than he planned to be when he left, but he'd walked the three blocks down to the bar and so the most he could hurt was himself as he made his way home on foot.
Rick gave in to the truth: His marriage was over and his home wasn't his anymore. Someday a new man would be in the bed he and Lori had shared these last nine years. The same bed they'd made Carl in. It was a bitter pill to swallow but he would make himself swallow it. He'd have to let go. He didn't want such thoughts in his head but damn if he could stop himself from seeing some faceless man atop Lori, his hairy ass bouncing fast and hard between her thighs.
The doors opened and a woman entered, pulling Rick's thoughts from the ideas of his wife fucking a new man, getting a new boyfriend, having a new life, and immediately rushed back twelve years to a night when he'd been a fresh-faced cop dating Lori, stranded at a strip club when his cruiser busted a tire. That night he'd cheated on his girlfriend with a stripper named Viper. He'd thought about her often over the years, wondering what life would have been like had they kept in touch, but he'd never dreamed in a million years he'd actually see her again.
Now, here she was, strolling into the bar, in his town, looking like time had declined to do more than sharpen her features ever so slightly into maturity but without adding a single line or wrinkle, or gray hair, unlike him. He blinked, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, if perhaps this woman just looked like her. It didn't take him long to conclude—this was the same woman. How could he forget her after the sex they'd had?
She hadn't noticed him sitting in the shadows. She simply went to the bar, dressed in a business suit that covered her curvy body modestly. She'd been studying to be a lawyer when he met her. Judging by her manner of dress she'd made good on her ambitions. Michonne. That was her name. She leaned against the bar and ordered a beer.
Rick sat there wondering what he should do. Should he approach her or let her approach him? What if she was waiting on someone, a date? What if someone was with her and would walk in any second? What if she'd gotten married? What if she didn't remember him? What if she did and would rather forget? He sat there, stewing in uncertainty, until she turned, seemingly in slow motion, and her eyes locked with his. They stared at one another, cautious, uncertain. Then the ice broke when his lips quirked up into a smile.
"Michonne," he said softly. She managed to hear him over George Strait's voice crooning from the jukebox in the corner.
"Rick," she said, and nodded.
He motioned to the empty part of the booth across from him. It was curved and snug and dark. When he looked back at Tara she was smiling and shaking her head while wiping down the already shining and immaculate bar.
"It's been twelve years," she said, once she was settled. "How are things?"
"Terrible," he said honestly. "My wife and I are divorcing, gonna share custody of our son, and I just moved into my own place. How's things for you?"
"Awful," she said, "my career has never been better but I just broke up with my fiancé and I'm alone again."
Rick held up his mug. "To being alone."
They clinked and took deep pulls from their beer. She looked into his eyes, looked at his plain white tee-shirt and his tight blue jeans and his chiseled jaw and Rick thought that maybe she still liked what she saw. God knows he did when he looked at her.
"Maybe we found each other when we need one another the most," she said, taking another drink.
"Maybe," he agreed.
Michonne leaned closer to him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We could spend a couple of hours sitting here talking, catching up, telling one another our life stories, or...we could skip all that and go back to Erotique and get that room?"
"You don't waste time," he noted.
"Time is too precious to waste," she replied.
Rick couldn't agree more. He grabbed his wallet and paid up his tab.
"That didn't take long," Tara said under her breath so that only Rick could hear.
"I know her from way back," Rick explained. "Someone I've never forgotten."
"I'm not surprised a woman that beautiful made an impression," Tara said in understanding. "Have a good night, Rick. You could use it."
"You do the same, Tara."
…
Room five. Rick took his key, feeling a little nostalgic at how little the place had changed. Tyler was still running the place, his hair a bit grayer, just like Rick's, and he was about fifty pounds lighter, having lost weight after a heart attack. He'd been all too happy to see Michonne again, and jokingly offered her job back, which she declined. She was good with being a lawyer, not a stripper. Tyler wasn't a stranger to sensing sexual tension between people. Hell, it was part of his bread and butter, and he didn't judge even though he knew Rick was married but had no way of knowing that marriage was coming to it's end. He didn't hold them up too long to take a walk down memory lane. He simply gave them the key to room five and they took a six pack of cold beer back.
"Oh, God, the wallpaper's the same," she said, laughing as soon as she stepped in. "I wonder if the bed is, too?"
Rick shut the door and put the beer on the bedside table. "I know this clock radio is the same. God, it's like stepping back in time. I'm 24-years-old and relatively new to the force."
"And I'm a 21-year-old dancer working to become a lawyer," she said, smiling at him. "All that's missing is rain."
Rick threw his head back and laughed. "I forgot that. It was raining that night. Hang on. I'll be right back."
She frowned as he dashed from the room, as spry as he was twelve years ago, and waited patiently for him to return. She couldn't believe she'd run into Rick after all these years, when she needed a friendly face the most. She'd truly loved her fiancé, Mike. After years of looking for a man who could make her happy the way she'd dreamed of, she'd thought she'd found that with Mike, only to realize he wasn't who she thought. He was looking for a deep purse to fuel his drug use. She'd stupidly let him use her until she couldn't put up with it anymore.
So she decided to take a drive to King County, to look for Erotique after she found a hotel while she prepared to meet with a client in the King County jail. All she'd wanted was a beer to drink and her memories of the young cop she'd had such amazing sex with over a decade ago. She'd not expected to run into him, find him just as kind and friendly as he'd been when he was tenderly young, like her, but she had. It was almost like destiny had thrust them together that night. Now he was back, a cell phone charger in hand, tech that hadn't been quite so advanced when they knew one another, as well as a sound dock he must have gotten from Tyler. He was scrolling through something on the screen and a moment later, after some messing around, the sound of a thunderstorm filled the small room, making Michonne laugh.
"You're joking!"
Rick held up his hands. "We've officially traveled back in time," he said proudly, and came to sit beside her with a couple of beers that they clinked together in their second toast of the night. "To youth and great sex."
"Here here," she agreed, and they took a couple of deep pulls off their beers.
"Rick Grimes," he said, offering his last name.
"Michonne Tyler," she answered. "I didn't come in here for the beer."
"Oh," he said remembering the exact words they'd spoken that night the same as she did.
She reached out, just as she had that night, and put a hand on his dick and began to rub. He may have aged, was closer to forty now than he was thirty, but his cock responded to her touch just as quickly as it had that night. She felt him harden under her touch, watched as his dick elongated in his pants, straining against the material, and she felt her pussy moisten at the sight. Twelve years had passed but she remembered how he felt, she remembered how he'd filled her, stretched her, pounded into her, and she wanted him, desperately.
Rick pulled Michonne onto his lap before slipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting the beer on her and feeling her warm breath mingle with his, while at the same time taking some relief from the tight aching need in his jeans as she ground against him. He flipped her over, his fingers making quick work of pulling off her boots, pulling down her pants, and peeling away the rest of her clothing. There was no need to rush, and he knew that, but he'd been fantasizing about this woman since that night and he intended to enjoy every inch of her.
She hadn't changed much over the years. She was only a little plumper now than she had been then, but she wore it well because the scant few pounds she'd gained went to fill out all the right places. She still had the roundest, firmest ass he'd ever seen, now her hips were a bit rounder, and her breasts a bit fuller, her thighs a bit thicker. Her thighs were magnificent, and he took time to lavish kisses on them before he tasted the pussy he'd been longing to lick for more than a decade, longer than his marriage to Lori. He ran his tongue over her slicked lips, dipped his tongue into her core, lapped at her folds and enjoyed sucking her clit. Her hips lifted off the creaky old bed, eager to feel his tongue on her, and he obliged, giving her what she needed until he knew she was about to come undone and he kept up his relentless assault on her sensitive mound until it happened, until her juices flowed from her and she was moaning loudly, sounds of ecstasy falling from her lips as her pussy visibly fluttered before him.
Rick ripped off his shirt, shoved his jeans out of the way, desperate to take his own pleasure in her. He pushed inside her welcoming heat, felt her walls moisten even more with every thrust as her pussy began to tighten around him. She took hold of his face, held him, stared into his eyes and lifted her hips to eagerly match his thrusts.
"Yeah, yeah," she whispered, hearing how vocal he was as he grunted with each thrust.
Michonne's hands moved from Rick's face down his back, until she'd gripped his ass planted her feet on the bed to meet his thrusts. It was a hard, fast fuck, one that ended when he felt his load rush through him. He stiffened inside her, his cock pulsing with every squirt of his cum. He could literally feel all his cares, all his worries, ebbing out of his body as he came.
…
Rick had never slept so soundly in his life, and neither had Michonne, for that matter. She woke him up with an eager rub on his cock, pushing her bare ass against his hard dick until he slipped inside. After a hard and fast morning fuck to get their blood going they indulged in a shower. Very little talking was needed. There wasn't much to say. They weren't kids anymore. They weren't each trying to get their footing on their chosen paths.
"What are your plans for today?" she asked.
"Go home, unpack my two boxes of shit, and stare at the walls," he said. "You?"
She pulled on her boots and then stood to tuck her shirt in. "Meet with my client at noon, get ready for this case, and then go back to my hotel. I'm due back in Atlanta tomorrow."
They stood in the weak light filtering through the dirty window of room five.
"We gonna exchange numbers this time?"
"I put my number in your phone last night," she said, smiling cheekily.
Rick laughed and leaned in for a kiss before he pressed his forehead to hers. "I did the same when you went to pee this morning. I added my address. The door is always open."
They hopped into her car and she dropped him off at his place. It was a renovated brick house that had been sectioned off into smaller apartments. His unit was on the first floor, Apartment A. He leaned back with the window rolled down and looked into her dark eyes.
"I hope I hear from you," he said.
"You will. I won't wait twelve years to call."
"How long will you wait?"
"How about tonight?"
"You okay with sleeping on an air mattress?"
Michonne winked at him and put the car in gear. "What sleeping?"
He stepped back and let her drive away, watched until she'd turned the corner and was gone, a goofy grin on his face as he all but danced up the steps and into an apartment he was a lot less apprehensive about moving into. In fact, he looked forward to having his own place, having a new life, something he wouldn't have thought possible just last night.
What a difference a day could make.
I loved this
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