Chapter 1: “When I Get My”

There are some songs and stories so intricate in their simplicity they hold whole worlds of possibility. The (Mis)Adventures of Grace & Gibby is one. Please enjoy this first glimpse as we join a complicated love story, already in progress…

“Plink, plink..plink plink”, Grace heard the little plucking of acoustic strings from a floor away. She felt them in the pit of her stomach, in the catch of her breath, in the instantaneous jolt straight to what was currently the most sensitive folds between her legs.

She’d just gotten out of the shower, had only dressed herself in an ivory lace bra and what she thought were a cute pair of matching cheeky panties. ”Plink, plink..plink plink” – there it was again. Grace snatched the first article at hand which happened to be Gibby’s button-down from last night and pursued the sound her body had recognized.

Gibby, and that button-down shirt. The blue of the fabric highlighting his eyes, the softness of the cotton belying the formality of the style, and, as a bonus, it still smelled just like him. Gibson, or Gibby for short. “Dad plays guitar and mom’s a huge baseball fan.”, his shrugged explanation upon their introduction all those years ago. “I’m Grace”, she’d replied. He’d learn the multiplicity of her name over the years and was reminded of one at dinner last night when she’d almost spilled her drink and ruined that button-down. “Well, my daddy did name me Grace”, she’d laughed, trying to cover for the nerves she was feeling. Gibby simply gave her a smile and caught the glass, saving both his shirt and her embarrassment.

He had invited her to dinner last night to “catch up”. It’d been far too long, they’d both agreed. The pleasantries of ‘How’s your family been, work going, etc.’ were dispensed over the appetizer and talk turned to old times and remember whens over the main course. Dessert would happen back at Gibby’s house, but they didn’t know that just yet.

“Remember when we’d first met and sat in that cafeteria just talking for what seemed like minutes? But our friends had attended their classes and came back to see us, surprised we were still there.”, Gibby asks.

“I’ll never forget it. I was sitting right next to you, but I asked if I could rest my legs on your lap, just to get that much closer to you. Good lord, was I awkward!”, Grace replies.

“Awkward? You were remarkable. Still are. It was me who was awkward.”, and as if to punctuate it, he gives her an awkward smile across the table which simply serves to soften the smile she was already wearing at the compliment.

“Whatever, awkward. I knew I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”, Grace answers and their eyes catch and hold for a beat or two longer than polite dinner conversation would allow.

“Check, please!” Gibby only half jokes. He has probably told her this, but he absolutely loves how she doesn’t mince her words. She never has, and apparently never will. Some things never do change, it seems.

“Plink, plink..plink plink” – still being picked on an old Martin & Co. six string – now a bit louder as she’s following the sound down the basement stairs. Louder still as Grace makes it to the doorway of the room she assumes is Gibby’s home office. He’s at his big wooden desk, guitar on his knee, the original song playing softly on his laptop. There’s a few more guitars hung on the walls, all Gibsons of course, but the rest of the room sort of telescopes around her as she’s drawn in.

“I thought you were going to shower?”, Gibby asks without looking up, sensing her standing there, feeling her eyes upon him.

“I did. But I heard you and practically came running. Please, don’t stop.” She means please don’t stop playing, but they both know she’ll utter that phrase again.

He’d looked up as she spoke, and sweet jeezus, she’s in his shirt and not much else that he can see. ”As you wish.”, is all he can muster with a mouth that has suddenly gone dry.

As he plays, Grace tiptoes over and perches herself right there on the edge of the desk. Those shapely, strong legs of hers crossed as demurely as they were under the dinner table. She can’t help it if his playing makes her re-cross them every so often.

The song starts again on his laptop.

“When I set my eyes on you…” and their eyes meet, as if on cue. They’d more than proven that the fire is still there between them, but that connection as they look at one another is undeniable. She notices his pulse as her gaze takes more of him in. His eyes drift and he doesn’t need to see through his button down to know that she is aroused.

Gibby places the guitar on the floor right next to his chair, stands up, and places both hands on the desk, one on each side of Grace’s hips. “When I get my hands on you…” the laptop sings and she desperately wants those hands on her; she even takes a moment to clock their placement before looking up and seeing his mouth is mere inches from hers. A shared breath and that’s all it takes. For the remainder of this playthrough they are kissing, teasing, testing the waters of trying to take things as slowly as the little metronome ticking in the background.

Grace’s legs open, just to be closer to him once again and it takes every bit of his restraint not to take her right there and then. She knows this full well as she can equally feel his arousal pressing urgently against her now damp as well as cute cheeky panties.

He pulls back slightly and she nearly whimpers. But she doesn’t really have the chance as his hands have moved from the desk to the tops of her thighs, right where flesh meets fabric. His fingers trace the seams ever so slowly and Grace does let out a sigh, somewhat breathless in anticipation.

Her sigh breaks their mouths apart and Gibby sees this as his opportunity. His head drifts directly down to meet his hands and he can smell her – something inside him viscerally remembering that smell. His left hand moves the tiny bit of fabric aside as his right hand holds Grace in place.

“Plink, plink.. plink plink” – is that the song or his tongue or both? Grace cannot think straight at this point, nor does she want to, losing herself to the sensations he is shooting through her body. He’s taking his time, meticulously kissing, flicking right along to that song. Lapping up all of her excitement as the song begins another verse.

“When I get my hands on you…”, at this Gibson takes ahold of Grace’s hips and scoops her up off his desk. Never the passive participant, she wraps her legs around him to make wherever he’s taking them easier to get to.

Turns out there’s a well-loved couch in his home office, just a few steps from his desk and he places her down as gently as he can manage while wanting to tear the buttons from his shirt she’s still wearing.

“Oh to hell with it.”, Gibby mumbles as he does exactly that. This elicits the most shocked yet devilish laugh from Grace. He takes the full length of her in with his eyes before lowering himself towards her. Just as she thinks he’s going to kiss her into oblivion again, his head stops right at her chest. She looks down just as his eyes come up and he places just the tip of his tongue on her hard nipple, right through the lace this time. The pressure is perfect, yet almost painful as that most sensitive of skin has been taught the entire time.

“Oh to hell with it.”, Grace echos as she slips out of her straps in record time. They are both laughing as he finally, finally enters her, as slowly and purposefully as the rhythm of the song still playing. How many times does it repeat as they make love? Just keep listening and the song will tell you…

“And now you know…

Everywhere on earth you go…

You’re gonna have me as your man.”