The tablecloth covers my legs, allowing me to hike my skirt up, and hides me as I sprinkle a little salt along the trail of water. I try to act very casual as I snap a quick picture, and feel victorious when the image is perfect. A clear line of salt lies on my tan skin just above the top of my nylons, parallel to the strap of my garter belt along the top of my thigh. I send the picture quickly when I see my lunch dates enter the restaurant and slide my phone back into my purse as I stand to meet my guests.
Ben
I’m obsessed. This has never happened to me before, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m suddenly losing my mind. I’ve texted and sexted with other women in the past, and while it’s entertaining, it has never been debilitating. Some pictures have been so explicit I’m shocked they were sent, but none have ever made my body react the way Lori’s lunchtime text affected me. Seeing her skin slightly moist and with the faint sprinkle of salt has had me staring at my phone for the last hour. I love the way her tan skin slides into the delicate lacy band of her stocking, and I’ve never wanted to taste anything so badly in my life.
If I knew where she was having lunch right now nothing would be able to stop me from going there immediately. I can’t work, I can’t think, and I feel like I need to get out of here before I lose it in front of our employees. Standing up right now would not be very smart, though, since that text has completely fucked with my head and sent all energy into my pants. When the fuck is it going to be nine?
I rub my palms over my face a few times, trying to decide how to respond to a text that has left me completely speechless. Lori is going to be so dangerous for me. I just finished harassing my sister about being careless with her boyfriend in public, and now I feel like a hypocrite because I completely forgot about that little tip when I gripped Lori’s hips and helped her grind into my body in the middle of a crowded club. I hunted her down like some lost little puppy, and now I’m doing everything I can to not beg her to tell her bosses she’s sick and leave.
Pulling at my hair and trying to get my focus back, I realize I’m going to be a mess if I don’t send her a response and then I’ll have to lock my phone away for the rest of the workday.
Me: Holy shit. Sexiest picture EVER. Don’t clean that off; I really need to know if you taste as amazing as you look right there. I’ll bring the limes and tequila tonight—you just bring that salt
Once I hit Send, I silence my phone and shove it into my briefcase. I spin around in my chair for a minute, thinking of the million things that need to be done before the end of the month, and not finding an ounce of strength to give a shit about any of them. Maybe a little trip to the gym will help pound out some of this extra energy that’s making it impossible to be efficient. I call my brother Caleb to see if he wants to meet up, and he’s stoked I’m actually leaving the office early to spend some time at the gym with him.
We’re about two miles into our run at the gym when Caleb laughs beside me. When I look over at him, he’s shaking his head.
“What?” I ask, a little pissier than I usually am with him.
“Who is she?” he asks me with a Cheshire cat grin. I have no idea how he can read me so well. He and Brandon are twins and they’re always finishing each other’s sentences, but he can read me pretty accurately too.
“Is it that obvious?” I look at him for a minute before returning my attention to the gym. The hum of our treadmills echoes throughout the large area.
“You haven’t said a word to me since we got here, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to break an ankle if you don’t stop stomping that fucking treadmill into the ground.” I laugh at his observation and shake my head. I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my forehead before I answer.
“I’m losing it. I can’t think about anything else. All. Day. Long. Even my water at lunch today had me thinking of her. It was fucking water with a slice of lemon. I mean, what the fuck?”
He is full-on laughing now; reaching up to slow his treadmill down due to the loss of oxygen I’m sure he experienced during his fit of giggles.
“I’m so glad you’re finding this amusing asshole.” I crank my setting up so that the noise will drown out his response.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he says, reaching over to turn the speed down on my treadmill. “Who is she?” He uses his small towel to wipe down his face.
“A woman I met a week ago at Keith’s bachelor party. She’s absolutely beautiful, has a banging body, and is nothing like anyone I’ve ever had before.” I watch as Caleb thinks through my response for a minute.
“So you’ve already had her? I thought that was like the kiss of death for women around you.” I’d be pissed, but he’s right. I don’t usually allow return visits. I know he’s genuinely interested in my problem.
“Well, I should clarify what exactly I’ve had,” I say with a pointed glare. He puts the pieces together and realizes that I haven’t had her in the way he had assumed.
“Let me get this straight, you met a beautiful girl, messed around a little bit, and then didn’t have sex with her? Were you sick or something? Too drunk?” I grab his towel from his handrail and throw it in his face. His laugh echoes off the walls of the gym and causes a few heads to turn in our direction. Caleb is always joking around, so he waves to our new audience.
“Crazy, right? Don’t get me wrong, having sex with her is on the short list, but it isn’t all I’m interested in. I don’t even know what the step after sex looks like with a girl. What do you do? Hold hands or some shit? Fucking cuddle? I hate myself right now. I feel like a giddy cheerleader, checking my phone every five minutes for a message. I stalked her like a crazy person, got her number off the internet. That just isn’t my style.” I click the speed up again while Caleb stares at me like I’ve just grown another head.
Reaching over, he clicks the speed down on my treadmill and then makes a low whistle. “You’re in deep, man. I’ve never seen you this out of sorts over a woman before. What are you going to do?” Our paces are matched up again, and I take a moment to focus on the sound of our shoes hitting the tread.
“I’m taking her to dinner tonight. What do you usually do when you take a girl out and you actually want to see her again after sex?” I look at Caleb as he ponders my question for a minute.
“You’re not going to like my answer, bro.” His eyes look into mine, asking if I want him to continue, so I nod, taking my lumps and hoping he doesn’t give me too much shit. He nods in return. “You take it slow. Don’t rush to bang her, get to know her. Treat her like a person, Ben, not some little plaything for you to have your way with for one night without ever calling again. Ask her questions, get to know her.” I’m hanging on every word of this. I know he’s right; I need to be interested in her, and I am.
“Thanks, Caleb. Please keep this between us. I don’t want any shit from Brandon or Madeline.” He nods and then leans over and cranks my speed up until I finally hit the red button, making it stop before I shoot off the end. It’s not lost on me that my little brother is giving me advice on dating a woman. I’m grateful and humbled all at once. We grab our towels and head for the showers.
Lori
It’s almost eight thirty by the time I’m packed up and making my way to the parking lot. I’m walking as quickly as possible and digging around in my purse so that I can shoot Ben a quick text to let him know I’m running a little late.
Me: Running a little late. I won’t have much time to get ready
Mr. Appendage: I can’t wait any longer. I don’t care if you come out in your bathrobe; I’m picking you up at 9. Actually, please come out in a bathrobe that would be pretty hot
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. By the time I pull into the parking lot of my apartment my cheeks hurt from sustaining the grin. I run up to my place and throw all of my work stuff onto the couch before rushing to the bathroom to freshen up my makeup. I kick my heels off on the way but decide to leave the stockin
gs on and ditch the stuffy skirt and blouse. I wrap myself in the fluffy pink robe from my sister’s wedding and shake out my hair as I look at my reflection in the mirror.
My robe has fallen open slightly, exposing just the top row of lace on my bra. I think about Ben’s request that I come down in a robe, and quickly run to the living room and grab my phone from the couch. Positioning the robe so that just the delicate lace of my bra is visible over the curve of my breast, I snap a quick shot. I don’t trust him enough to put my face in the picture yet, but I’m pretty confident he’ll recognize the robe from the hotel. I send the picture to him with the message that I’m hurrying, then start to reapply some eye shadow and a little bit of lip glass.
Mr. Appendage: You’re killing me. If you’re not down here in 15, I’m coming up to get you. Promises of dinner will be off the table
Me: If dinner is off the table then it will be free for other things . . .
Mr. Appendage: Make it 10, clear the table for dessert ;)
I decide not to twist my hair off my neck; it’s falling in waves down my back from being rolled up all day. I couldn’t have styled it better if I tried. I pull my faithful little black dress out of the back of my closet and slide it on. I’m not sure where he’s taking me, but I assume black heels will be appropriate for dinner out. I spray a small mist of perfume across my chest and then grab a pair of colorful dangling earrings and my small clutch.
I’m still putting in my last earring when I step off the elevator and into the lobby of my building. The sound of my heels clicking on the glossy tile ratchet up the suspense and anxiety I’m feeling over heading out to dinner with this stranger. A man in a dark suit and hat nods in my direction, and I head over to where he’s standing.
“Miss Easton? I’m Jeffrey and I’m going to be your driver tonight.” He shakes my hand and I smile and nod in response. Tucking my hand into the crook of his arm, he leads me out the large glass doors of my building and to a shiny black town car that’s waiting nearby.
“Is Ben in there?” I ask as Jeffrey reaches to open the door.
“No, he’s gone ahead to secure you a table. He’ll be meeting you there.” I nod and step into the car. It’s beautiful and elegant, with dark leather interior and gold trim lining many of the controls. I’m still examining the car when we stop just outside of a fancy restaurant. I’ve never eaten here before but I’ve heard it was recently updated, and a new chef has revamped the old menu up to award-winning standards.
It’s been a while since I’ve been out on a first date. I hate them. I’m not some submissive woman waiting for a strong man to come and help me. I like to choose my own meal and even pay for it if I feel like it’s appropriate. My ex never allowed me to speak up at fancy dinners and insisted on the showy experience of ordering for me. It was a power trip that always ruined my appetite, and one that made me dread future encounters with wealthy businessmen. I’m lost in thought when Jeffrey cuts the engine and makes his way to my door.
“This way, Miss Easton.” Jeffrey extends his elbow again.
I see Ben before he sees me. He’s leaning over in a small chair at the front of the restaurant, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies something on his cell phone. When Jeffrey clears his throat, Ben looks up and makes eye contact with him, then quickly looks in my direction. I can almost feel him take in my image.
A small, wicked smile begins to form across his beautiful face as he studies me from the tips of my toes to the curl of my hair. It takes him a minute to notice what he’s doing, but then he jumps to his feet and rushes to my side to take my arm from Jeffrey’s elbow. I notice the small teasing look Jeffrey throws Ben before nodding and bowing away.
“Have an excellent dinner, Miss Easton. It’s been a pleasure,” Jeffrey says, nodding slightly in my direction with a friendly but professional smile. I watch as he disappears in the hustle of the main-entry crowd, then my attention shifts back to Ben.
“You look beautiful,” Ben says, not afraid of who might overhear us. I can feel my cheeks warm at his compliment.
“You look pretty great yourself.” Ben smiles and then the hostess interrupts us, letting us know that our table is ready. I can’t begin to explain the feeling of walking next to him as he guides me to a small table in the back. I notice eyes on us and my chest swells with pride at being next to this gorgeous creature, even if it might only be for tonight.
When we reach the table, Ben pulls my chair out for me and then takes a seat himself. The hostess hands us our menus, but Ben folds his up and watches me as I read over mine. When the waitress returns to our table, I fold up my menu as well and she tells us all about the chef’s specials. When the waitress asks if we’ve had enough time to look over the menu, Ben smiles and then lifts his eyebrows at me.
When I nod, he waves his arm across the table and says, “Ladies first.” I place my order and then Ben places his. When the waitress leaves our table, Ben leans over and says, “I hope you don’t mind I didn’t order for you. I have a younger sister and she would have my balls if I was egotistical enough to believe I could order your meal without knowing any of your preferences. Chivalry is not dead, just revised.” I can’t help but giggle and melt at how precious it is that he respected my opinion enough to not bully me into eating food I don’t like.
“Sounds like a wonderful lady. I hope I get to meet her someday.” When his brows lift again, I realize how stalkerish that sounded and try to correct it. “I mean I hope our paths also cross . . .”
“I’m sure you will meet her someday, Lori. Just surprised you allowed a small amount of vulnerability to show with me.” He picks up his water and takes a sip, and I do the same, hoping it will wash away some of the warmth that’s climbing up my skin.
“Tell me more about yourself, Ben. I don’t even know your last name but it seems you already know mine. By the way, I believe there are laws against stalking people on the internet.”
A low chuckle escapes his chest and it’s as though it physically wraps around my body, drawing me toward him. “I know a great lawyer.”
I give him a small kick under the table and a fake glower. “So I guess that brings us to how exactly you got my phone number.”
“This is not a story I’m very proud of.” He looks around to make sure no one else is listening. His posture is guarded, as if he’s being secretive. He’s so cute and so charming, I can’t help but smile and lean in as well, pretending to also want to guard his terrible secret. Ben slides his fingers down my arm and places his hand over mine on the table, causing my heart to pound wildly in my chest.
“Well, after I chastised myself for days about not getting your information, I found myself sitting, very frustrated, at a family dinner. Madeline, the sister I mentioned earlier, was on some long tirade about weddings, rehearsals, and websites dedicated to couples getting married. I was trying to tune her out, but when she mentioned a friend of hers was putting together a website for her wedding so people could RSVP or ask questions, I felt hope for the first time in days.”
I’m slowly putting the pieces together myself now. “You found me on my sister’s wedding web page? How did you even know what to look for?”
“Well, this is clearly the humiliating part of the story.” His smile sends a wave of euphoria through my body. I’m becoming intoxicated just sitting near him and watching his smile. “I asked my sister a bunch of questions about it and for a minute I think she actually thought I gave a shit about the small details of her friend’s wedding, but then she caught on. She forced me to admit I had an ulterior motive, and when I finally caved, she told me how to find the site and what information I would need in order to search for your sister’s wedding.”
While I sit speechless, he continues, “Don’t for a minute think I told her the truth about us. I told her I saw a hot girl I wanted to hook up with, and although she rolled her eyes, she bought it. Her only advice to me was I should’ve had the courage to ask you out. I
called the hotel that night, after I left my dad’s house, and asked them the name of the wedding that shared the hotel with my buddy Keith’s. You being the point of contact for your sister was just luck.”
I clear my throat, lean a little closer to him, and say in my best police interrogator voice, “Great story, but I was not the point of contact on her wedding website. I’m afraid this isn’t adding up.”
“Correct, beautiful. I had to find your sister’s maiden name, then google her information, check out her Facebook page, which thankfully was public and had a link to her wedding shower invitation. You really should tell her to be more careful, there are some crazy people on the internet.”
“Obviously,” I say, and he laughs and shakes his head.
“You were not the point of contact for the wedding, but you did host her bridal shower, Miss Lori Easton. And that, my friend, is how I completely turned in my Man Card and stalked you like a teenager in love.”
Ben leans back in his chair and watches my face for my reaction.
“So now that you know so much about me, I believe it would only be fair for you to tell me more about yourself,” I say.
“Fair enough. What do you want to know?”
Of course, my mind goes completely blank and I can’t bring my mouth to form a single question. I’m saved by the bell when the waitress brings out our salads. I’m about to take my first bite when I look up to see one of my best friends from college making her way across the restaurant, towing her equally perfect husband behind her.
Ben
I breathe a sigh of relief when our salads arrive and our conversation is interrupted. I’ve just told this amazing, breathtaking woman that I stalked her on the internet, and it wasn’t just an easy Google search. She’s still here, making my heart pound just because she’s simply breathing and leaning into me. I look up from my salad and watch as Lori’s eyes zero in on something behind me. A huge smile stretches across her face, and she quickly drops her fork and wipes her hands clean on her cloth napkin.
Letting Go Page 4