by Sophie Davis
Finally, with Google up, I typed “Six letter words that start with B” into the search bar. I know, not the most productive way, but I couldn’t think of what else to search. Amazingly, there are a lot of six letter words that start with B. I plodded through the first list, muttering things like “leaf babies, snow babies” and “leaf bamboo, snow bamboo.” Between two words I would’ve had to look up to know their meanings – blowen and blowse – I struck gold. Blower. Leaf blower, snow blower. I felt triumphant, as if I’d gotten final Jeopardy correct as opposed to successfully googling a crossword clue.
Whistle. Blower. I recited Lark’s poem from memory. Two lips across mine. Ten fingers down my spine. No space between us. I wrote the two words side by side: whistleblower.
Jesus, Lark, I thought, what the hell were you into.
That night I took extra care getting ready, curling the ends of my hair and ensuring my makeup was absolute perfection. I was touching up my eyeliner when I caught the reflection of the shower in the mirror. Blake had booked one of the largest rooms at the hotel, and it had a shower large enough to accommodate six people, with rain-style jets across the entire ceiling. One wall was transparent and visible from the sleeping area, though with a flip of a switch, it became opaque and impossible to see through. When Blake and I had arrived, he’d flipped the switch with a wink in my direction. I wondered if, by tomorrow morning, we would be flipping it back to clear.
It seemed that butterflies burst from cocoons in my stomach every time the thought crossed my mind. Blake had been patient, and had never once hinted that he was anxious for our relationship to fully progress physically. We made out, we touched, we cuddled, but it had never gone beyond that. I’d never gone beyond that with anyone. The thought of losing my virginity to one of the self-professed man whores of the Upper East Side made me shudder inwardly, and it always had. Those guys were used to having what they wanted exactly when they wanted. Being teenage boys, what they wanted was sex. With as many girls as possible. I’d vowed to never be one of those girls, and truth be told I didn’t need to be. I wasn’t lacking in self-confidence, I didn’t need their attention to validate myself. And I certainly wasn’t one of the girls who secretly hoped that by landing one of the smug sons of the wealthy that I would further my place in life. Or at least get some awesome gifts out of it. I was the sole heir to one of the largest fortunes in North America; I could buy myself better gifts than any man. I had a lot to offer, and being a Kingsley, a lot of guys coveted those offerings. My virginity was, in my opinion, my most precious and valuable one. Blake felt that way, too, which was why he was the right guy to have it.
Blake was so different from those guys. He cared more about me, about getting to know me, than he’d ever cared about the physical stuff. His lack of pressure had made me nervous at first, as I knew some guys used that angle to get what they wanted. But those guys would never have stuck around this long, not even to sleep with the unattainable Lark Kingsley. No, Blake was nothing like them. He was kind and considerate, attentive, affectionate and thoughtful. So tonight I wanted to give him what he’d never asked for. I wanted to give him all of me.
In the mirror over the sink, I scrutinized the pale blue lingerie I’d selected. I hadn’t wanted to go over-the-top with this, but I wanted to be wearing something special. The color matched my eyes, and the soft silk and lace of the bra and matching panties were sexy while still being classy. With one last assessment of my reflection, I slipped on the long white dress I’d chosen. It was almost too ironic, wearing white with what I had planned, but it felt like a summer night despite the crisp hint of fall. I’d packed other choices, but this dress just felt right. Fastening a simple gold chain with a gold Elsa Peretti heart around my neck, I added my watch and two simple gold bracelets before deciding my outfit was complete.
Blake’s eyes lit up when I stepped out of the bathroom. He was on the couch in the sitting room, watching the day’s college football highlights on SportsCenter. His attention immediately shifted. Blake dropped the remote and walked over to where I stood. I was doing my best to seem confident and mature. He had no idea what I had planned.
“Baby…you are stunning.” Any doubts I had disappeared in that moment. There was no doubt that he meant what he said; the certainty was there in his eyes. They were sparkling, his smile lighting up his entire face.
“And you…you look amazing,” I replied. It was the absolute truth. Blake had showered before I did, and his dark curls were still slightly damp. He’d obviously put some effort into taming them since they weren’t as wild as they normally tended to be. The dark olive button-down shirt he wore picked up the green in his eyes and complimented his skin perfectly. His gray slacks were neatly pressed and fit to perfection. Damn, he was hot.
I busied myself finding my gold sandals in the mess I’d made of my suitcase to keep from staring. When I turned back around, shoes in hand, he was standing there waiting, an arm extended for me to steady myself while slipping them on. He always thought of everything. I crossed the room to where I’d set my clutch on the desk earlier, and smiled in surprise. A single red rose sat in a bud vase, baby’s breath arranged perfectly around it. I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist from behind, his breath on my neck giving me a thrill.
“I love you, Lark.”
I turned slowly, wrapping my arms around his neck and laying my head against him.
“I love you too, Blake.”
This moment was perfect, and I briefly considered abandoning my plans for the dinner and skipping straight ahead. But when I thought about where we were going, what we were doing, and the delight I hoped he’d feel, I decided against it. I pulled back slightly, giving him a soft but promising kiss before stepping back and taking his hand.
“Are you ready?”
I couldn’t have hoped for a more beautiful night. The sky was clear, the stars twinkling above. We exited the hotel through the side door, and passed a line of well-dressed young professionals waiting to be allowed entrance to the hotel’s rooftop bar. Blake and I had eaten dinner up there the night before, and the view was breathtaking. It wasn’t a surprise that people dressed to the nines and spent their Saturday nights gazing out over the city. Having drinks while looking down on the roof of the White House, only one low building between them, and out on the National Mall seemed quintessentially D.C.
“We don’t need a cab?” Blake asked, not sparing a single glance for any of the beautiful scantily-clad women we walked past.
“It’s a lovely night; let’s walk,” I answered with a coy grin.
With our hands still clasped tightly, we walked across the street towards the Mall, sauntering as if we had all the time in the world. His thumb gently ran circles across the back of my hand, giving me chills of anticipation. When he noticed, he removed the jacket he’d added as we walked out the door, and draped it over my shoulders.
“You’re too sweet. Thank you.” I wasn’t cold, but also didn’t want to admit the chills were due to nerves. Blake, being Blake, would insist we wait if he thought I had reservations. I didn’t. But a long talk to explain that would kill the mood.
We reached Pennsylvania Avenue, and paused to admire the Washington Monument. I took the moment to lay my head against his shoulder, and his arm snaked around my waist. Unlike my juvenile male friends, Blake didn’t comment on how the Monument resembled a giant penis, further cementing my decision that tonight was the night and he was the guy.
His surprise was evident when we crossed the famed street and stepped onto the National Mall. The path passed right by the Monument, but we didn’t stop to admire it up close. I was suddenly very anxious to get where we were going, though I tried my best not to show it. When we got to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the Mall, I turned left.
“Remember when you told me that your favorite movie growing up was Night at the Museum?” I asked innocently, thankful the darkness hid my smile.
“Yeah,” he laughed. “That movie was so
ridiculous, but I love the idea. Seriously, how cool is it when all the statues come to life?” We were now standing directly in front of one of the Smithsonian buildings. “Why, you want to break into one of these and see if we meet Pocahontas?” he asked.
“I was thinking a triceratops,” I joked. “Breaking in sounds so criminal, but we could see if the door is unlocked.”
“Doubtful.”
“Come on, if nothing else we should take a picture by the doors. It may be the closest you come to living out your fantasy.”
Blake wrapped both arms around my waist, pulling me in so his gaze met mine in the dark. “I’m already living out my fantasy.” His expression was serious, but I laughed. I couldn’t help it. For the first time in my life, I’d just laughed from pure joy.
“Come on, Romeo,” I said, pulling him up the wide set of stairs to the enormous wooden doors at the top. I feigned searching through my clutch for the camera, which was actually quite difficult since my bag was so small. Just as I knew he would, Blake jiggled the handle on the door. His face lit up like a child on Christmas morning.
“Lark, look!” he exclaimed. “You were right. Someone did leave it unlocked. Wanna sneak in?”
“Only if you promise we can find me a dinosaur.”
The charade was over as soon as we slipped through the double doors. The tuxedo-clad waiter holding a tray with two champagne flutes was a dead giveaway. Blake’s mouth was hanging open as his gaze ping-ponged between the waiter and me. Slowly, recognition dawned and surprise turned to glee, making all of my preparations worth it.
The curator had been over the moon when I called to set up a last minute appointment to discuss the possibility of our family loaning the Kingsley Diamond to the museum for a special exhibition. It wasn’t not true. My parents might entertain the notion. I’d had to spend an hour listening to the curator drone on and on about the security precautions the museum would implement to prevent theft. I’d smiled politely, all the while reminding myself this was a small price to pay for after-hour’s access to the museum. I would have spent ten hours discussing infrared lasers and state-of-the-art safes just to put that enormous grin on Blake’s face.
Hand in hand, we walked slowly through the dinosaur exhibit. Sipping champagne, strolling through the darkened museum with him, it felt like a dream. And I couldn’t fathom there being another person alive whom I’d rather share this with. Halfway through the loop of exhibits, a table was set with a white linen table cloth, candles and more champagne. The catering staff here was being paid for the night, and they’d pulled out all the stops to make it totally worth it. Every one of Blake’s favorite foods was incorporated into a dish, from the tuna tartare to the lobster mac and cheese, all the way down to the ice cream sundaes we had for dessert.
“You are way too good to me,” he declared while scraping the last of the butterscotch from his bowl. Blake was the kind of guy who liked to enjoy things to the last drop. It was one of the many things I liked about him.
“I just want you to feel the way you make me feel,” I said, suddenly feeling shy.
“You do, love. I feel it every single day.”
Our hands were clasped on top of the table, and I couldn’t help but think how cheesy that must seem to the waiters. I’d felt the same way about romantic clichés until I experienced them with the right person. Then it completely made sense why people do it: It feels amazing just to touch the person you love.
We meandered through the museum for several hours, holding hands like kids in junior high. And like drunken college kids, we stopped frequently to kiss and just smile at each other. We were a full-on parody that night, but I didn’t care at all. Walking back across the Mall, past the still-lit Monument, Blake actually twirled me around. He held out his hand and I went spinning underneath, both of us laughing at the silliness. Blake began to hum Sinatra as we danced like fools under the stars.
The slight buzz from the champagne emboldened me, and as soon as we walked in the hotel room I stepped back against the closed door and pulled him against me. The surprised look on his face quickly gave way to something else. I saw the heat in his eyes, but when he kissed me it was still soft, sweet, and lingering. His arm wound around my back, gently pulling me closer to him. His chest was like a brick, his torso all hard lines and firm muscle. I silently thanked his soccer coach for continuing their workouts in the off-season.
My hands kept running over the lines of his abdomen. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants. His skin was hot beneath my hand. He sucked in a breath and deepened the kiss ever so slightly. Blake broke away, his lips swollen. He pulled off his shirt completely, then leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I love you.” His lips travelled down from there, lightly grazing my throat. His fingers found mine and he laced them together, the other hand gently massaging my lower back. He reached up and slid one of the dress straps from my shoulder, his lips finding the skin it had been covering. I leaned my shoulders back against the door and closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling of his hands and lips on me. We’d come this far before, but I knew that this time was different. And apparently so did he.
When his lips found mine again, there was more intensity, more need, than I’d ever felt from him before. He pulled back looking into my eyes, a question in his own. I smiled and pulled him against me again in answer. Without breaking away, he began moving slowly backwards, pulling me with him. A brief flurry of nerves fluttered through me, but calmed when he went to the couch instead of towards the bedroom. He had a moment of hesitation before sitting on the plush cushion and pulling me down in his lap. For a minute that lasted a lifetime we sat there while his eyes searched mine. Looking into his face, I saw such a mix of emotions: desire, affection, tenderness, need, love. I was sure my look mirrored his.
“Sweetheart, tell me if this is because of the champagne,” he said, his concern evident.
If I said it was, he would stop immediately, tuck me into bed, and I’d spend the night wrapped in his arms, fully clothed.
“It’s because I love you,” I whispered, honestly.
Blake kissed me again softly, only a hint of contact between our mouths. I gently pushed off of his lap and stood, willing my legs to hold me. His gaze never left mine as I slid the side zipper down. The other strap fell off of my shoulder, and my dress dropped to the floor, a puddle of silk around my feet. His eyes stayed fixed on mine still as he reached for my hand, the thumb still making those reassuring small circles, and pulled me into his lap again.
The moment our bare skin touched I froze, even as heat started to build inside of me. Blake started at my shoulders, running the tips of his strong fingers gently down my arms and over my abdomen, skirting around the blue lace I still wore. When my kisses became more demanding, he answered in turn. I wasn’t even aware that I was kneading the hard muscles just above his hips until I felt a tremor run through him. Encouraged, I turned to whisper in his ear, “I want this.”
For a moment, Blake sat motionless, his eyes shut tightly. My heart raced in my chest, my pulse pounded in my ears, faster and faster as I waited for him to say he did too. Finally, Blake nodded slowly, any lingering hesitation gone. I stood and backed away from the sofa, just enough so he could see all of me. Blake’s eyes fluttered opened, and for the first time since I’d slid out of my dress, his gaze wasn’t locked with mine.
Standing there in the lingerie I’d selected specifically for this momentous occasion, with Blake’s eyes slowly drinking in every inch of my body, I felt beautiful. In the past, he’d kept his expression carefully guarded. I think he worried that the intensity of his desire would scare me. Tonight he held nothing back. Intense was too weak a word for what I saw as I watched him watch me. Yet, I wasn’t scared or self-conscious. The way Blake looked at me was the way I imagine mortals looked at Aphrodite – awed and in rapture.
Light doesn’t travel as fast as Blake did when he leapt to his feet. The next th
ing I knew, I was literally knocked off my feet as he swooped me into his arms, one arm beneath my knees and the other beneath my shoulder. My arms were around his neck, my lips teasing the exposed skin at the hollow of his throat.
With the way he’d flown off the couch, I figured he’d rush to the bed. He didn’t. Blake took his time, walking almost painfully slowly as I trailed kisses up his neck.
Maid service had turned down the bed, and Blake laid me down on the thousand thread-count sheets as gently as if I were made of the same spun glass as the chandelier in the lobby, careful to place my head on a plush pillow. Again, he took his time studying me, as if committing every detail to memory, down to the tiny freckle to the left of my belly button.
The buckle on his belt was undone a moment later. His slacks fell to the carpet. Not it was my turn to admire the view. I studied him the same way he’d done me. Thankfully Blake didn’t stand there too long because I was ready for the hands-on portion of the evening.
Blake stretched out beside me, propping himself up on one elbow. Every point at which his skin touched mine felt as if it was on fire. Light as feathers, his fingers skimmed my stomach, my ribs, the strip of lace holding the cups of my bra together, my throat. He leaned over me, and I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he traced my lips with the tip of his finger as he whispered all throaty and deep, “I want you with me always, Lark. No matter what.”
“Always,” I echoed in a ragged whisper.
I finally understood what it meant to truly love another person, wholly, unconditionally, and without reservation. I gave him my virginity; he gave me something so much better in return. With that one act, Blake Greyfield erased my past, made me appreciate the present, and offered me a future I’d never thought possible.
“The green one,” I said decisively. Asher was holding up four ties, one in each of the primary colors and the hunter green one. We’d been at Saks in Tysons II for the better part of the last three hours. Asher’s mother had set up an appointment for a suit fitting, and I was making good on my promise to help out. In exchange for my chauffeur services, he’d offered to take me to dinner at the restaurant of my choice. I was already perusing the Cheesecake Factory menu on my cell.