by Lucy Lambert
“Smile!” Carly said. She tapped the phone, squinted at the proof, then tapped it again. “Two, the second one for luck.” She handed back the phone and went back to taking donations and drink orders.
I checked the screen above the bar. Of the desired $2500, they’d raised $200 by that point. And with only one round remaining, and no new players, I couldn’t see them getting much closer to their goal.
I wasn’t filthy rich or anything, and I’d already donated once, but I slipped another $10 into the box when it came by.
The final round came and went in a whirlwind. Neil and I placed a close second, which we were both proud of since the winning team had seven people on it and we were only two.
Quiz King Stan handed over a gift certificate good for one order of buffalo wings at the bar as a consolation prize.
Then we started for the door. The first few threads of panicked indecision wrapped themselves around my heart.
Chapter 12
NEIL
I felt alive. I felt energized, every nerve tingling pleasantly.
This was what I was talking about. This was what I needed. Rather, she, Rachel, was who I needed.
And before tonight, I wasn’t exactly sure of the extent of that need. I also knew that I didn’t want the night to end.
However, I also knew that time was pretty much the only thing that you couldn’t buy, no matter how big your bank account was, what your stock portfolio looked like, or what sort of stock options you had at work.
“Well...” Rachel said when we stopped out onto the street. It was never truly dark out there. Not with all the lights from the buildings, the headlamps of the cars, the streetlights buzzing over our heads.
“Well what?” I said.
I’d put my hand on the small of Rachel’s back to guide her through the door and I didn’t take it away when we got out onto the street. Nor did she ask me to move it.
“It’s late...” Rachel said. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and the screen lit. Her eyes bulged a little when she saw just how late, “I should go.”
“You should come with me, actually,” I said, “It’s much, much too late to grab the train back now. Come back with me to my place. It’s on the Upper West Side. You’ll like it.”
She looked so lovely. And I liked the feel of her, the warmth of her against my hand. The reality of her, really.
She looked down at her phone again. She had this most endearing quirk where she pulled one cheek in between her teeth, creating a hollow, while she thought about something. I didn’t think she was even aware that she did it.
“We need some ground rules. Like last time,” Rachel said.
“No. No ground rules this time. They didn’t do us any good the last time. Stop kidding yourself. And stop kidding me,” I replied.
Her lips parted to say something, but then she stopped herself. She took a breath, let it out. Then she looked at me. “Okay.”
My heart pumped pure heat through the rest of my body. “Okay. Good,” I said.
Then a jingling sound caught my attention. I looked around, found the source across the street. A couple walking their dog, some sort of spaniel with big, floppy ears. That reminded me.
“Stay here, I’ll be just a second. I forgot something inside,” I said.
“What? Oh, okay. Don’t be long,” Rachel said.
I wasn’t.
I went in, saw who I wanted to see. Stan the Quiz King. I walked up to him. “I’d like to make another donation. Tell me the exact name of the shelter in question, please.”
“Oh, right. I, uh, I have that here somewhere...”
He handed a business card over. I pulled out my check book. I wrote down a 5, hesitated, then added a couple pen strokes to turn it into an 8. Then I added a few zeroes behind it. I signed it, tore it off, stuffed it into the donation box.
When I opened the door, I heard Stan the Quiz King utter a “Holy shit...” I smiled.
Then I went back out to Rachel.
“Everything good now?” Rachel said
“Yes, I think so,” I replied, “Let’s go.”
We caught a cab. We sat close so that our thighs touched.
Chapter 13
RACHEL
The doorman recognized Neil and let us in immediately.
“That must be nice,” I said, “Never having to fumble for your keys. Or worry about whether some homeless guy is going to try and push in behind you.”
“There are perks,” Neil said.
It was a lavish building. A mosaic pattern decorated the highly polished floor of the lobby. Some dark and expensive wooden panelling, oak or teak I guessed, accented everything. And the ceiling rose high over our heads.
In spite of still feeling rather drunk on Neil, I started trying to figure out what rent in a place like this would be.
Rent? If you can afford a place like this, you own.
The elevator was quiet and smooth and modern, all brushed steel and digital displays. Neil kept his hand resting on my hip and I liked the weight of it there.
The elevator carried us up to the 15th floor.
“I really shouldn’t...” I said, those doubts once again resurfacing. There was still another train out to Brooklyn. If I hurried I could make it.
Make it to what? Your apartment with some rushed food, maybe a quick look at Twitter and the news and then off to bed? Bed by yourself?
I didn’t want to think about Twitter or the internet anymore, though. They just meant work to me.
Except was it really work when it controlled every aspect of you? I think they just called that life. And I was beginning to realize that maybe it wasn’t the sort of life that I wanted to live.
“I don’t want you to go, but I’m not going to stop you if you do,” Neil said.
I didn’t go. I got out of the elevator with him, followed him down a hall with that same patterned and polished floor as the lobby. The same oak-panelled walls.
I noticed how clean everything smelled. Was Manhattan supposed to smell this clean? Did it ever smell this clean? I wasn’t certain.
“So... when did you move in?” I said, wanting to hear something other than our footsteps punctuated by the quickening slam of my heart against my ribs.
“Five years ago this November,” he answered.
I also noticed how very few doors lined either side of the hallway. The condos had to be huge. There couldn’t be more than one or two per floor, even.
I couldn’t help a bit of awe creeping into my voice, “You must pretty much run wherever it is that you work.”
He smiled, “Yes, with help. It’s been good to me. Here we are.”
There wasn’t a keyhole in the door. Just the latch and an angled panel above it. Neil pressed his thumb to this panel. Something clicked. Then a deadbolt slid back with a muffled clack.
“I guess you never have to worry about forgetting your keys when you empty the trash,” I said. Come on, Rachel, you could sound a bit simpler if you tried harder!
I wasn’t trying, though. I wanted to sound smart. I wanted to impress him. But I was so far out of my depth I couldn’t even see the shoreline anymore.
“You mean the trash disposing robot doesn’t need to worry,” Neil said.
I stopped. “There’s no such thing.” Is there?
“Just pulling your leg,” Neil said, still smiling, then he nudged the door with his fist and it swung up silently, “Come on in. You’ll like it.”
I noticed that the foyer lights came on as the door opened.
I stepped through the doorway, Neil’s hand still against the small of my back. I guessed that the foyer by itself was half the square footage of my (admittedly small) Bushwick place.
“So... you must have a nice view of the park,” I said, mentally orienting myself and the condo with the rest of the island.
From the foyer I could see two hallways branching off and two doorways. All of them beckoned, and I wanted to explore this new place.
&nbs
p; “I do,” Neil said, “But I don’t care about that.”
I turned to face him. We stood close. The sort of space that a chaperone at a Catholic high school dance might ask partners to maintain.
“Why is that?” I asked. In turning around, the bit of breeze around my body pulled that one annoying bit of hair down across my forehead again.
I started reaching up for it in a mostly unconscious, well-practised movement.
Neil interrupted, lightly clutching my wrist. “Because you’re the only thing I want to see right now, Rachel.”
I laughed and smiled at the same time. That line shouldn’t have worked. But the way he delivered it without a hint of self-aware humor, the whole time his eyes locked onto mine. It worked.
He brushed that errant lock back off my forehead, his hand coming to rest cupping my cheek.
I started trembling. It began in my ankles, then worked its way up to my knees and didn’t stop from there.
I was a marionette and my puppet master had the shakes.
“I guess that the tour can wait,” I said.
“I hoped you might say that,” Neil replied.
His other hand went to my waist, then slid around so that it again pressed against the small of my back. The pressure from that hand increased, pulled me towards him.
Our bodies pressed together first, and then our mouths.
This late in the day, his stubble tickled at my lips. Tickled and prickled.
That tremble inside of me turned to a heat wave that spread out from low in my stomach, melting every part of me with which it came into contact.
That heat increased as our kiss deepened. His lips parted mine, his tongue exploring. I responded in kind.
That hand on the small of my back slipped down. He cupped my ass. The cupping motion turned to a squeeze. Into a grind that pushed my hips hard against his.
I trembled on the inside. All thoughts of leaving, of going home and pretending this night didn’t happen, vanished.
Well, not quite all.
We came up for air. My chest heaved and so did his. I could feel my heartbeat in my lips. The tickle-prickle sensation of his stubble remained as well.
I struggled to catch my breath. My lungs couldn’t quite keep up with the demand. Everything felt liquid and hot, inside and out.
“What is this, Neil?” I said. I searched his eyes as though I might find the answer somewhere in their depths.
And they were deep eyes. Vital and alive on some primal level that I couldn’t quite grasp but found myself reaching for. I wondered if that vitality, that yearning that I saw in them, was one of the things that attracted me to this man the most.
Both his hands ended up on my hips. They slid up my sides, cupping at the swells of my breasts for a moment before continuing on over my shoulders. He cradled my face in his hands.
His palms were large and smooth and dry. And I thought I could feel his heartbeat in them. Could he feel mine? I thought that he could.
“It’s just the two of us is what it is. The rest can wait,” he replied.
“I like that,” I said. Oh, how he sweeps aside all my worries. I should be worried by that, but I’m not.
He swept other things, too. Like me, right off my feet.
One moment he was holding my face in his hands, looking down into my eyes, his face the only thing that I could see.
The next moment I was in his arms, smiling and laughing. He moved in one quick and fluid motion.
I put my arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. “Put me down.”
“No. Not here, at least,” Neil said.
“Where, then?”
“You let me worry about where,” he replied. Then he started walking.
I laughed again. No guy had ever done this to me before. I thought it was an experience all women should have at least the once. That feeling of being held and supported by two strong arms. Borne off to wherever he cared to carry you.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious. But who wouldn’t?
“Neil, are you sure I’m not, you know, too heavy? You don’t have to do this,” I murmured.
“I’m sure,” he said without the slightest beat of hesitation, “I’m sure that I could carry you like this all night. If that’s what you wanted.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said, trying not to smile too much.
He carried me through the foyer and then down the second hallway. He put his shoulder to the first door on the right.
He was also careful to avoid a mood-spoiling bonking of my head against the doorframe, guiding me through the opening with skill and grace.
“You sleep here every night?” I said, momentarily awed.
It was a corner bedroom with floor to ceiling windows. Sheer curtains diffused the light coming in through those windows. A large four-poster bed took up one wall. I could see art and other furniture as well, but my attention was otherwise occupied so I didn’t really focus on them.
“The nights I’m home, yes,” Neil said, “Although tonight I’m not sure much sleeping is going to happen in this bed. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“You’re incorrigible,” I said, trying to sound reprimanding even as my already racing heart kicked it up another couple of notches.
I didn’t think I could’ve slept if I’d already been awake a million years.
“That’s the way you seem to like it,” Neil said.
He carried me over to the bed, then set me down on it. I lay on my back and he, with aching and deliberate slowness, popped every button on my blouse starting with the top and working his way down.
I liked the way his eyes devoured every revealed inch of me. I liked the way his stubble tickled and prickled between my breasts when he kissed the soft and sensitive skin there.
“That’s no fair,” I said when he pulled the tails of my blouse out of my skirt.
“We’ll make it fair, then,” he replied.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it carelessly behind him. Then he yanked at the knot of his tie until it loosed enough for him to pull over his head.
He tried tossing that away too, but I grabbed it from him. With a smile, I pulled it down over my head and settled the glossy silk of it between my breasts.
“I think it looks better on me,” I said.
“I think that you’re right.”
Then he sank the fingers of both hands into the gaps between the buttons on his shirt. He ripped his shirt open, many of those buttons pinging off into the darkness. I gasped in delight.
Then I sat up so that I could be the one to push that shirt down off his shoulders and arms.
I didn’t push it off all the way. I did it enough so that the sleeves kept his arms behind him.
I put one hand on his stubbled cheek. Let that hand slide down his chiselled chin. Down his neck, over his shoulder and down to his well-sculpted chest.
“You are so incredibly sexy,” I said.
My fingers continued their exploration down his body, pausing a moment over his heart when I felt that powerful thump-thump beat beneath the slab of muscle.
He breathed steady and deep while my fingertips traced down his abdominal cleft.
That breathing quacking when my hand kept going lower. My fingers found his belt buckle. They went lower, caressing him for a moment through the front of his pants. But only for a moment.
Something about him brought out something playful and teasing in me. My hand moved away from the swell of him and he groaned.
Then he leaned in to kiss me. I leaned back, dodging his lips.
“You’re making me desperate, here,” Neil said not without a smile.
“Maybe that’s just how I want you,” I replied. I leaned in and kissed his neck and then the sweep of his shoulders.
Then he struggled the rest of the way out of his ruined shirt. He pushed me down on the bed and I gasped.
He savaged my jaw and my neck with kisses. His rough mouth moved down between my br
easts and then back up again, leaving the skin there flushed and red.
One of his thighs slipped between mine. My breath caught at the delicious sensation of the pressure against me.
He nibbled on the lobe of my ear. His breath, hot with need, washed over my neck and shoulder.
“I need you now,” I breathed. I couldn’t take any more of that teasing pressure against me.
My hands strayed between our bodies, made quick if fumbling work of his belt buckle. I unzipped him, unbuttoned him. Freed him.
Neil pushed my skirt up my thighs. He hooked a finger into my panties and pulled them to the side.
Somehow, I don’t know how or when, he found a foil wrapper. He tore it open. I ached with terrible need while he rolled the contents on.
Then there was more pressure. It built, then the pressure let up and we were together.
My breath rushed out as he filled me. My hands found his shoulder blades. My fingers dug into his flesh. I held him tight against me and in me.
I didn’t expect either of us to last long. I certainly didn’t. My body writhed beneath his. He kissed me hard when I climaxed, every muscle in me going rigid and then languid with heat. My back arched up off the bed, every fiber of me aching to be as close to him as possible.
Our bodies pulsed and throbbed together.
He did last longer. I don’t know how, but he did.
When he finished I held him close. It felt as though our heartbeats had synced. Both of us glistened with beads of perspiration, and once more I found that my lungs couldn’t quite meet the demand for air that the rest of my body wanted.
“Wow,” I said.
“It’s not over yet,” Neil breathed. He barely needed to whisper, his lips were so close to my ear. A pleasant shiver ran through me at the sound of his voice.
Our second time that night didn’t have the wild, desperate need of the first. It was slower, more methodical. He wrung every last bit of pleasure from my body that he could.
At one point he even took his black silk tie from around my neck and used it to tie my wrists together. I’d never let a guy do anything like that to me before.