by Virna DePaul
Want to meet at the park near your office?
The day after I show up at Simon’s agent’s office, I’m busy at my job at the marketing firm when I get Simon’s text. My heart does a silly little somersault.
This isn’t real, Marissa, I remind myself. Keep it cool.
I text back I can meet him after work around 6:00.
My job has never been my favorite thing, since my boss is an asshole and my co-workers backstabbing jerks, but today, it’s even more unbearable. I’m antsy the rest of the day, completely ignoring requests from coworkers to send this or to do that, until my boss finally says I should go home. Luckily, it’s close to 6:00, so I go to the park Simon mentioned.
It’s the biggest park in town, with moms pushing strollers and couples walking dogs and lone runners jogging down paths, ear buds in their ears. There’s a surprising nip in the air for Southern California. I’m glad that I wore a jacket today, otherwise I might be a teeth-chattering mess when Simon shows up.
Surprisingly, I feel calm. Resolved. I’m not regretting my impulsive decision to play the part of Simon’s girlfriend. I’d done all the agonizing beforehand, after that kiss in the limo, lying in bed all night wondering if I could act like someone’s girlfriend without falling for that person. Without being hurt when Simon leaves me. Without everything in my carefully orchestrated life going to hell in a hand basket again because of my foolish impulsivity.
The truth is, I’m still concerned about all that.
But I also can’t stand the boredom of my life anymore. Ever since Simon barreled his way in, I’ve been reminded just how much I miss the excitement of spontaneity and risk.
I want to feel more of it. I want to soak it in, so it will hold me over when things return to my life’s regularly scheduled programming.
I can do this.
For just a brief while, I can once again be the girl who is wild and uninhibited. I can do something very few people have the opportunity to do. And that makes me feel confident and empowered in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
“Marissa, darling.”
I turn and see Simon, who walks up to me with his long-legged, confident stride and kisses me on the cheek, much like he had when he said goodbye to me at the elevator at his agent’s office. Just as it had then, the gesture makes my heart thump and my breath catch in excitement.
“How was your day?” he asks.
“It was fine.” I try to ignore that kiss, try to ignore how much I want him to kiss me again.
“Good. Ready for our stroll?” He holds out his arm.
I feel rather silly taking it, but if we’re going to do this, we might as well go all the way. “I’m as ready as you are.”
We fall into an easy walk, and I can tell he’s shortening his stride to match mine. My heart warms at this. Even if he’s faking it, he’s very good at this whole boyfriend thing.
“So, logistics of when and where we’ll be playing the part of lovers,” he says, glancing down at me. “First there will be the dinner on Friday I told you about. Then there will be a formal ball that weekend. Are you available?”
“For a ball?”
“Yes. Noble and Spires sprung that on me after you left Declan’s office. They were so taken with the idea of us together, they said we had to come. They always have this big annual dinner for all their associates. A lot of famous actors will be there. We’ll show Spires and Noble we’re a couple, and that I’m the committed family man they want to see. After that I’ll either have the part in the bag or I won’t. Either way, we can break up and you, my dear, may go on your merry way.”
“What will I tell my family? I’m not sure they’ll be happy about two breakups in a year.” I don’t know why I’m saying this. It’s not as if we could change this farce into something legitimate.
Simon’s forehead crinkles adorably. “You make a good point. Perhaps you find out that I cheated, and you dump me?”
I snort. “Charles cheated on me, and my mother begged me to take him back.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I have no intention of entering into any kind of relationship, so we could keep this going as long as you’d like to.” He smiles at me, although it’s a kind of fond smile, like you’d give your grandma or your dog. “Until, perhaps, you find a man that’s worthy of you.”
I try not to take it personally. Just because Simon made me come before doesn’t mean he wants to do it again. And do I even want him to do it again?
Oh, yes. Even if it’s fake, even if there’s no meaning behind it, I want it. I want things to go much further, I want to just relax and enjoy things and not worry about a stupid engagement ring and getting married to a man with the right breeding.
We make our way back to where we started, and Simon asks if I want to do another lap just as a family with twin girls approaches. One of the girls is currently screaming to the high heavens.
“We’ll buy you an ice cream cone, honey!” the father soothes, bouncing the little girl in his arms. She squirms, wanting to get down, and the father sighs and lets her go.
Her father turns to say something to his wife, and that’s when the little girl runs as fast as her pudgy little legs can take her down the sidewalk. I don’t have a ton of experience with small children, but even I’m surprised at how fast she can run for being so young. Luckily, she runs right into Simon’s long legs. She stops, stares at the barrier in front of her, and then looks up.
“Where are you going, little one?” Simon asks.
The little girl’s tears have disappeared as quickly as they appeared. I can see her father coming after her, while the mother is holding onto the other girl. This one, though, stares up at Simon and then lifts her arms up.
“Up! Up!” she says. When Simon doesn’t pick her up, her rosebud mouth quivers and I can feel the scream about to erupt from that tiny throat.
“Pick her up, before she starts crying again!”
He glances at me, then the little girl, and he swoops down to pick her up. The mouth quiver disappears, and when Simon places her on his shoulders, she laughs with glee.
The father is just shaking his head as he comes toward us, but my attention is all on Simon. He laughs, his hands on the little girl’s legs, and he begins walking about, letting her look around. She claps and tugs on his hair. “Up! Up!” she commands.
“I can’t get you any higher without your dad coming for my head,” he says, grinning at me. He spins around, though, keeping a tight hold on the girl, and she laughs as loudly as she was crying earlier.
I can’t help it: my heart gets all squishy and warm. I never thought Borg of Alien Love—the guy who spends most of his time being emotionless and stiff, despite wearing nearly nothing—would do so well with small children. He seems so at ease, and I can’t help but think of him with his own children.
Our children.
Whoa, stop that thought right there.
Of course, my mental warning doesn’t stop me from imagining him holding our son or daughter, that same smile on his face.
The father finally gets to us. “Thank you for holding onto her,” he says. “She’s way too fast for her own good.”
“My pleasure.” Simon takes the girl down from his shoulders, handing her to her father. “I’m always here to keep little girls from running away.”
The father thanks us again and walks back toward his wife, reuniting the twins. The girls act as though they haven’t seen each other in ages, and everyone laughs.
As we continue our walk, I remain silent. Simon keeps trying to catch my eye, and finally he asks, “What is it?”
I don’t know what to say. That I’m surprised he’s good with children? That I’m falling for him no matter what I tell myself?
“I just never expected you to be like that around kids.”
“What, you think I really am from another planet? I know I’m a fabulous actor, but I promise you, I was born here. I have come into contact with many human children in my life,” he teases. �
�I like kids. They do whatever they want and don’t apologize. At least at that age. It’s endearing.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’re envious of a two-year-old?”
He tilts his head back and laughs, and I feel it rumble through me.
“Well, I suppose I should be heading home.”
Simon smiles. “Thank you for meeting me.”
I nod. Turn to walk back to my office building, where I left my car. Then stop. Before I know what I’m doing, I turn back to him and blurt out, “Would you like to come to my place? For tea?”
Or anything else…
That last part seems to hang unspoken but obvious in the air between us, and I can tell right away that Simon hears it. He doesn’t say anything at first, but then he nods. “I’d love that.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing in my kitchen making tea. It’s boring, and if I were some kind of sexy seductress, I’d make Simon a complicated mixed drink, but I’d used all the vodka the other day. And perhaps, since he’s British, he’ll appreciate my love of tea in the evening, right?
As I hand him the steaming mug, our fingers brush. I know he sees how I shiver any time we touch.
“This is so very English of you,” he says before sipping the tea. He murmurs in appreciation. “What is this? It’s good.”
“I thought you British knew all kinds of tea by heart.”
He laughs softly. “I’m not that British, love.”
“It’s jasmine with lemon. Nothing too fancy.”
“That’s alright. I prefer simple to fancy. In fact, I have a simple question for you, if you don’t mind answering.”
I can tell from the naughty gleam in his eye that he’s up to something. I hesitate, then lift my chin. “Of course. Ask away.”
“You changed your mind about pretending to be my girlfriend,” he begins again, “and I was wondering how you feel about other things between us progressing for the duration we’re together?”
His voice is silky, smooth, and I don’t need him to explain what he means by other things. I want to wrap my arms around his neck and let him do all kinds of other things. I want to take the reins of this moment and use them to my advantage. Instead, I sip my tea. Swallow. Try to sort out my thoughts.
“What other things?” I ask, rather primly, just so I can hear him spell things out.
“Well, you see, we’re going to be spending time together. And although I’m not looking for a relationship…” He reaches out, taking that strand of hair he played with yesterday. “I would definitely be interested in making the most of our time together—physically.”
I close my eyes. I know I can’t say yes but how I want to say yes! I can smell him and I can feel his heat just from him touching my hair.
But God, if I was worried about falling for Simon before, that worry magnifies tenfold when I think of him touching me. And me touching him. “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.” Even to me, I don’t sound convinced.
He gets up from his chair, placing his mug on the counter. He stops touching me, but there’s so little space between us that it’s like I can still feel him.
“May I ask you another question?”
I give him a confused look. “If you’d like.”
“How long were you with—what was his name?—the prat you were engaged to?”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Charles.”
“Oh yes, Charles. Charles The Prat.” He waves a hand. “How long were you together?”
I’m not sure where this is going, but I reply, “For about seven years. Why do you ask?”
He steps nearer, until his hip brushes mine. If I wanted, I could place my hands on his chest. “Because the first time I was here, on the couch…well, you seemed to come rather quickly. As if you needed it. As if you hadn’t been satisfied in bed for quite some time.”
I take in a breath. I should push Simon away, tell him he’s being an ass. But I’m mesmerized by the look in his eyes: the gleam in those blue depths. He doesn’t touch me, but he doesn’t have to.
I don’t want to think about Charles right now. To be honest, I can’t think about Charles right now. Simon fills up my entire mind, my vision, my everything. What is it about this man that makes me throw away all sense of propriety?
I know I shouldn’t respond to his question, but I do it anyway. “He was…fine.” I don’t want to get into specifics—not because I feel interested in protecting Charles, but because I don’t want Simon to think I’m some cold fish.
He just looks at me. I want to look away, but I can’t. His gaze is uncovering everything, leaving me naked.
“I know enough about women to know that ‘fine’ is the equivalent of ‘terrible.’” He finally touches me, but it’s just his fingers enclosing mine. “Did you ever enjoy it?”
I close my eyes. No, I didn’t. Lately, it had gotten to the point that I tried to get out of sex as much as possible, which is probably why Charles cheated on me with his secretary. We hadn’t slept together in over nine months. Sometimes Charles would whine about me not putting out, but I always found an excuse. I had a headache, I was tired, I had to get up early. Sex only lasted about ten minutes anyway, and each time I just stared up at the ceiling, counting the minutes until it was over.
I feel more vulnerable than I have in a long time. How can I admit that until Simon touched me while we watched Alien Love, I’d never had an orgasm with a man? Not even Brian Hall, my bad boy teenage boyfriend, or any of the other boys I’d been with before him, had been able to make me come. I’d told myself back then that I was young, that I still had a lot to discover about my body, but as an adult? Charles had told me over and over again I was a cold fish and a prude, and I’d started to believe him.
Gaining release with Simon’s fingers rubbing me had been wonderful, but a total fluke.
Hadn’t it?
I don’t want that moment to have been a fluke, though. I’ve fantasized of having a fulfilling sex life, with a man adoring me in a way that only happens in fiction. Simon is a man capable of bringing fiction to life. I’ve seen him do it on the screen plenty of times. “Do you enjoy your sex scenes as much as it looks like you do?” I blurt out.
He laughs softly. “Not hardly. That’s not to say Ms. Brice isn’t an alluring woman. I may get slightly aroused, but it isn’t all that enticing to have thirty people around you, telling you which body part to move and when to move it.”
“Oh?” I gnaw on my lip. “You definitely fooled me. It always looks like you’re enjoying it.”
He puts a finger on my chin and tilts my face to his. “Back to you, love. Let me guess,” Simon says, playing with my fingers, “The Prat blamed you for not liking sex.”
I try to play it cool, but I’m sure my expression gives away the answer, because Simon tsks.
“No woman is cold because she’s bad at sex. She’s cold because her lover is a selfish prick who has no idea what he’s doing.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of my fingers. I jolt when I feel the tip of his tongue lave my index finger. “You enjoyed my hands on you. I know, darling, that you would enjoy the other things we can do together.”
Right now, I’m the opposite of cold. I’m on fire. My skin prickles and I’m sure I’m bright red. This is only the stuff of fantasy, but who cares if it isn’t real? I have never been so turned on in my life. When Simon takes that same finger and sucks it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit, I’m sure I’m going to explode.
And he’s barely touched me!
“Sweet Marissa,” he says as he kisses the rest of my fingers. “Let me show you how wrong The Prat was. How much you turn me on, and what a passionate lover I know you’ll be.”
He leans toward me and kisses my cheek. Then my forehead, my ear, and his mouth finally reaches mine, to the point that I’m gasping out for him to kiss me.
He doesn’t kiss me like he did in the car, though. He kisses me gently, his lips a soft touch against mine. He play
s with me; he lets go of my hand to take me by the waist and press me closer. Feeling his erection, I shiver. I can’t believe this man wants me.
It’s a heady realization.
As I make a small noise in the back of my throat, it’s as if I’ve spurred him on. He bends me backwards and kisses me harder, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth. Before I realize what’s happening, he sets me up onto the kitchen counter, spreading my legs so he can step between them. He kisses me until I see stars against my eyelids. My entire body is on fire, and when he smooths a hand down my side, I can’t help but press harder against his body.
“Let me touch you,” he says in a whisper.
I almost shout, Please! But I nod instead, watching as his lovely hands trace downward, from my throat to my belly button. I want to strip off all my clothes and take off his shirt, but I can’t move. I can only watch as Simon gets to the hem of my shirt. His fingers dance across my belly. I can’t help but laugh at the sensation.
“Ticklish?” he asks.
“Yes, oh!” I laugh some more as he tickles my sides, and I have to plead with him to stop after a few moments.
“What’s wrong, darling?”
I take a breath. I can’t help seeing him in one of his love scenes with Ava Brice. Though it was all movie magic, she’s gorgeous and blonde and perfect and he’s shared more than a few beds with her, even though those beds had all been part of a film set. How can he be with someone like me, someone so ordinary, after that? Won’t I disappoint him? “I’m just not like your…other women.”
He stops and looks into my eyes, his own heavy-lidded and burning with desire. “I assure you, Marissa, you’re gorgeous.”
I nod, the desire in his eyes spurring me on. He yanks my shirt over my head and tosses it across the counter. I’m wearing a boring beige bra—at least it’s lace!—and I have to restrain myself from covering my chest. My breasts are overly large, not pretty and perky like he’s probably used to.
But judging by the gleam in his blue eyes, he doesn’t mind. In fact, he licks his lips before reaching out to cup my right breast.
“Are you sensitive here?” He traces around my nipple, petting and playing. Looking down at his tanned hand against my breast, I can feel myself getting wetter. I can’t even respond to his question, but instead push my breasts out toward him, wordlessly begging for his touch.