So he shrugged and decided to train a little bit.

Oolon hanged up, visibly frustrated, and gave a dark look at Bulma, who was searching for something in the huge refrigerator, humming.

- What is it, Oolon? she asked.
- It's the fourth girl who refuses to go out with me! A cute pig like me! On Valentines Day! Can you imagine?!
- Of course...

Oolon blinked. What kind of answer was that?

Finally, the young girl came out of the refrigerator, the arms full of cans. The pig's eyes grew bigger.

- Whip cream?! he exclaimed.

Bulma giggled, her cheeks blushing slightly.

- Tonight is the night, she announced. But don't tell anyone! It's a surprise!

She left the kitchen, singing joyfully. Oolon starred blankly at the door for a moment.

After a few minutes, he shook his head and grabbed the phone. Now way he'd spend that day alone!

Yamcha gave a last punch to the robot, sending its head into the wall, while the body fell in front of the young man. Satisfied, he smiled and accepted the towel Puar brought him with gratitude.

- Enough for today, he decided, mopping his face and neck.
- I hope so, sighed Puar. You've been training for three hours.
- Really? I didn't notice. I'll take a quick shower and get supper then.

When he came back to his bedroom, a towel tightly wrapped around his waist and totally relaxed, he noticed the suit someone had put on his bed in his absence, a note pinned on the collar.

Wear this for the dinner, please,
Bulma

Yamcha smiled as a light odor of strawberry came to his nose. "If it's what it takes to make her happy..."

He dressed up and was a little surprised to see it suited him perfectly. The suit was a black tuxedo and a red rose was decorating it. "Classic" he thought as starring at his reflection in a mirror. He was obliged to admit he did look good, even with his messy hair. He'd tried to comb it properly, but in vain. With his best smile, he headed toward the dinning room.

It took him a minute or two to recognize the room. A red cloth was covering the table, set for two. The lights were turned off, many candles lightening the room softly. A nice bouquet of red and white roses was decorating the table.

It was incredibly romantic and Yamcha felt dispaced with his wild hair that also needed to be cut. "Where's Bulma?" he wondered, not daring to enter the room. A hand touched his shoulder from behind and he turned his head. It was her, more beautiful than ever.

Her lavendar hair was done in a complicated yet nice way, a few curls framing her face. She was earing his earrings and he could smell her characteristical strawberry perfume. Yamcha couldn't help but noticing how her dark blue dress suited her, revealing her forms yet being sober and tasteful. A golden heart shaped pendant was decorated her neck.

She was just the vision of a Goddess.

Chuckling at her boyfriend's admirative shock, Bulma gently pushed him toward a chair.

- I planned at nice evening for us, she said as sitting down, a smile floating on her face.

Yamcha smiled, imitating her. But her voice had awaken an old feeling inside and they was her sapphire eyes looking at him just made it grow. But he was over with this since a long time now, so he did his best to ignore it and enjoy what she'd organized for him.

After they had eaten the dessert (which surprised Yamcha by not having the smallest trace of strawberry), they kept talking for a while. The annoying feeling had disappeared and Yamcha's eyes were softly glowing because of the wine.

- That was great, darling, he said, sighing gladly.
- Was? But it's not over yet...

A mysterious smile appeared on the red lips.

The feeling came back in a rush, filling Yamcha with a wave of panic.

Bulma got up.

- Let's go to my room, she proposed.

In fact, she didn't bring him to her huge half bedroom, half lab, room, but to one of the many innocupied rooms of the building. Yamcha was almost as pale as the snow outside, but he refused to give up to panic and to disappoint her.

When she opened the door and indicated him to enter first, it took him all of his courage to not stay frozen in the corridor or, even worse, to run away.

The room was, just like the dinning room, only lightened by candles. The large bed was covered with red satin sheets and he noticed roses petals on the pillows. On a table beside the bed, he saw a big bowl of strawberries and another one, smaller, full of... Whip cream?

Holding back a desperate moan, he walked to the bed, sat on its edge. Bulma soon rejoined him, her eyes shinning with the little flames of the numerous candles.

- It's our first Valentines Day together, she said, almost whispering. I want it to be special.
- Of... Of course, Yamcha managed to say, nervously.
- Very special...

Her hand rubbed his shoulder slowly, made its way down his back... He quickly grabbed it, kissed its back gently. Bulma smiled.

- You're so cute.

Her other hand reached for the bowl of straberries, picked one and dipped it into the whip cream. Then she brought it to her mouth, carefully put in on her tongue without having cream all over her lips.

As she chewed her fetish fruit, Yamcha noticed his eyes were fixing her mouth, mesmerised. He shook his head, still holding her hand so she wouldn't try to touch him again.

The next berry went to his mouth. He let Bulma feed him, this being something they would usually do anyway.

It lasted for a long moment, velvet silence filling the semi-obscur room. Yamcha relaxed, enjoying how nice and pretty she was for the "special" night, even more than usual. "She wouldn't have that in mind... We're only seventeen..." he told himself. He smiled goofily and the strawberry missed its goal: whip cream spread on his cheek. He raised his hand to wipe it, but Bulma stopped him.

- Let me take care of it, she said.

Yamcha reddened as her face approached his and he felt himself shaking when she started to slowly lick the cream.. She put her hand on his thigh to keep her balance and that contact burnt him. Then her tongue slided into his mouth for a kiss and her hand moved to his shoulder, relieving him.

Not for too long though, because she pushed him onto the bed, her kiss becoming more passionnate. He opened his eyes wide when something grabbed him between the thighs. Unable to hold back anymore, he pushed her away and ran from the bed with a panicked shout.

Once at a "safe" distance, he looked at her, fallen on the floor and shocked.

- WHY did you do that?! she said, getting up.

She was clearly upset and offensed, like he'd insulted her. Yamcha felt bad, but he couldn't do that... Not yet...

- I'm sorry... I... I tried to control it, but...
- Remains of your phobia, huh?

Her voice was annoyed. He nodded without looking at her. "I ruined her evening... She's gonna be so angry..."

- Yamcha...

Her hand cupped his face, obliged him to face her. He was surprised to see her smiling, even sorry looking.

- It's ok, she said. We don't have to do it.

Endless relief filled him. Not only she wouldn't force him into it, but wasn't even angry at all!

- I'm sorry... I'm ruinning your plans...

Even though a huge smile was now stuck on his face, he was truely sorry for her. But she smiled, losing him in the sea of her eyes.

- It's fine, really. I should have known you wouldn't be ready for that.

He pulled her against his chest for a hug. That's why he loved her so much. She was the first girl he had started to feel good with and she could be so understanding when he needed it.

- We can still eat the strawberries, right? she asked, with the usual I'm-gonna-eat-strawberries-and-they-happen-to-be-my-favorite-fruit-ever light in her eyes.
- Of course, he laughed.

They sat back on the bed, even closer to each other than before, Yamcha's arm tightly wrapped around Bulma's waist. She continued to feed them both with the red berries covered with whip cream, but when one would have cream on his face, the other would just wipe it gently with a finger.

Time passed; they laid on the bed, side by side, finishing the bowl. Yamcha had taken his vest off and unbuttoned the first buttons of his immaculate shirt, Bulma had undone her hair and lavendar waves were brushing her shoulders.

Even when there was no more strawberries, they stayed in the room, laid on the bed, Bulma in Yamcha's arms. Silence had come back and they didn't want to break it, both loving how the evening had turned out. It wasn't the passionnate and memorable night Bulma had planned, but it was somehow better.

- Yamcha, I love you, she whispered at last, almost inaudible.
- I love you too, he said on the same tone, kissing the top of her head.
- Can we stay like this forever?
- Sure...

Of course, forever only meant the night, but for them it seemed it could never end. Bulma smiled, pressed her face against his muscular chest, likeing the fact she could hear his heart beat. He was so cute... Sorry... I'm ruinning your plans...

They slowly fell asleep, in the same intime embrace, smiles remaining on their face.


Chapter 8
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