Valentine's Day Virgin

by Penny Wylder

  The first dress I try on is a gorgeous purple dress with sweetheart neckline. It’s strapless, and silver decorates the top. The sweeping purple skirt falls into a cascade of silver as well. I like it. A lot.

  I step out of the dressing room and catch Eric with a glass of water halfway to his lips. He freezes when he sees me. I hope that’s a good thing.

  “Oh, that’s lovely,” Anita says, guiding me onto a pedestal in front of the mirrors. I can see myself from almost every angle, and impossibly, every angle seems to look good.

  “I like it,” I say.

  “You should,” Eric says. I didn’t notice him standing and coming up behind me. “You look beautiful.”

  I don’t meet his eyes. “Is this fancy enough for the party? I have no concept of whether this is going to be just a party or a full-on ball.”

  “I think this would fit well,” he says. “And this dress would be perfect.”

  Anita steps up. “We have others to try on too. If this ends up being your favorite, we can easily come back to it.”

  For the next hour, I truly feel like I'm the heroine in a movie, because I try on dress after dress and get to see Eric smile at me and feel those butterflies and imagine that this is the world that I live in all the time and that I'm not just a visitor. All the dresses are beautiful, but honestly, none of them really compares to that first one. I think that's going to be the one I choose, but Anita has several more for me to try, and they're all so gorgeous that I'm not going to say no to seeing how they look on me.

  I'm in the middle of changing when Eric speaks right outside of the curtain. "Sally?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Can I come in for a moment?"

  I freeze. I'm in my bra and panties, and my mind flashes to what Iris said. I don't want that to happen. "I'm not dressed," I say.

  "I have to leave, go back to work, but I wanted to say goodbye."

  It's a strange combination, this mix of relief and sadness. I don't want him to go. Suddenly I feel a burst of confidence. This man already knows that I'm a virgin and he hasn't run. His fingers have already been inside me. If he sees me in my underwear, nothing is going to change that. I push the curtain back with a smile on my face and watch as he takes me in.

  Satisfaction fills me as I watch his eyes go dark, as he steps close and pulls the curtain closed behind him. "Though I very much wish that I didn't have to leave."

  "I was teased before going here that you might want to have sex in the dressing room."

  "Oh, I do," he says. "Absolutely. But like I said last night, I'm not going to fuck you for the first time somewhere less than you deserve." Reaching out, he pulls me to him, and kisses me. And this is a very different kiss then the one he gave me before. This one is filled with passion and intimacy and heat. It's not a kiss that you give when other people are watching. "Come to dinner with me tonight," he says. "And make sure you find something to wear while you're here."

  "Where are we going?" I ask, because of course I'm saying yes.

  That little smirk appears. "I'll text you, and I'll pick you up at eight."

  "Okay."

  He kisses me again, softly this time, and is out of the dressing room before I have the chance to say goodbye. It's probably a good thing for both of us. A little more and neither of us would have cared whether my first time was in a bed or not. I pull the next dress down and step into it, and am mortified when I realize that Anita was standing outside the whole time.

  She sees the look on my face and waves a hand. "Honey, I've seen a lot worse."

  "Okay," I squeak. "I need a dress for dinner tonight too, I guess."

  She smiles. "I think I have the perfect thing for that."

  8

  Eric

  This day has been torture. Not because of work, miraculously, but because I can't get Sally out of my brain and the way she pushed aside that curtain full of confidence, and yet she's feels so...fragile. My mind keeps spinning back to the curves of her body, breasts spilling out of a simple bra, and everything chaste and simple. I've been aroused all day, and I know that I'll likely be aroused even more tonight at dinner when I can just look at her. Another thing that I didn't necessarily intend. Normally on the eve of Valentine’s Day, I'm in the office fixing some crisis, and then going home to drink myself to sleep.

  Tonight, I don't want to do that. I want to be with her, even if it means possibly having a couple of news stories about me having a new Valentine. I can handle it. I just realized that one hour wasn't enough time, and I want to talk to her. Find out what she likes and who she is and dig deeper into this thing that neither of us really understand.

  I've had Jennifer make reservations at The Empire Room and reserve a car. If I have the chance to kiss Sally, I'm going to take it. I don't want to be stuck behind the wheel distracted. In fact, I need to leave now if I'm going to change in time.

  I barely register getting home and changing because I'm just marking time until I can see Sally. After I put my tux on I still have time to kill, and I have to stop myself from getting undressed just to get myself off. This girl has taken over my brain, and for tonight, I refuse to question whether or not that's a good thing.

  Finally, it's time to leave, and I get into the town car Jennifer ordered. The ride from my apartment to Sally's feels like an eternity even though it isn't actually that long. And then I'm ringing her doorbell and waiting, and waiting, and there she is, and I'm thinking that I should have gotten myself off because my cock is criminally hard.

  The dress she's wearing is a deep crimson color, and it hugs her body like it was made for it. The design is simple and elegant, with not a whole lot of embellishment, but she doesn't need it. Sally is enough. Her hair is similar to last night, falling in curling waves. I want to have my hands in it again, holding her still so I can kiss her the way I really want.

  I realize that I've been staring at her for a minute, and haven't said anything. "In case you hadn't already figured it out from my staring, you're stunning."

  The pink that stains her cheeks is delicate, and I love seeing it there, and I hate it. Because the fact that she's blushing from such a simple compliment means that she's not used to it. And there's no reason she shouldn't be told this every day of her life. She'll be reminded for however long she's in mine. That same twinge in my chest that appeared when I was talking to Bianca earlier reappears. I push it aside. Because it's too fast, and I'm not my father. And of all things, I don't want to think about him tonight.

  "Thank you," she says, taking my outstretched hand as I help her into the car. The darkened windows are perfect, because no one can see as I sit beside her and immediately pull her toward me for a kiss. I'm not usually one for PDA. I prefer privacy, and the club was an exception. Sally startles, and then melts against me in a way that makes me never want to stop kissing her. But I have to remember to take it slowly. So much of this is new to her, and I'm not going to be the man she remembers as ruining her first experiences.

  No. I'm going to be the man she remembers who took the time needed to make those experiences perfect. When I pull away she's smiling. "Iris made me take my lipstick with me, and now I know why."

  "So I can keep kissing you without fear of ruining your make-up?" I ask.

  Her eyes flick up to mine, and I could fall into them if I tried, I think. "Kiss away," she says softly, and I do. Sally has a way of ruining my plans. I was going to make this about talking, about getting to know each other, but that will have to wait for dinner because I can't get enough of her lips or the way she tastes. It makes me want to taste her elsewhere, hear the sounds that she'll make when my mouth is on her. My cock has become a marble statue just imagining it.

  Before I realize it, we're pulling up in front of the restaurant, and I'm a little annoyed that means we have to stop, until I see the glazed look in Sally's face and realize that I'm not the only one who might be disappointed. "We're here."

  She bites her lip, the blush on her face telling me she's co
ming back to herself and realizing that she's spent the last twenty minutes making out with me. "Okay."

  I help her out of the car, and there's a camera flash. I'm not surprised, given what day it is and where we are, that there are some photographers here. "Ignore them," I say. "They're going to take pictures of everyone who comes in tonight."

  "Why?"

  I grin. "Because the love lives of the rich and famous are apparently very interesting. Most celebrities don't celebrate on the day of Valentine’s Day if they're going to go out. The photographers know that if they want to catch people, they have to go the day before or the day after."

  "So we're going to be in the paper?"

  "I doubt it," I say, laughing. "I mean, it's a possibility, but I'm not really a celebrity. I'm sure there will be people who are far more interesting to report on than you and me. Would you be upset if we were?"

  Sally shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. It's just...all of this. I'm not used to being in this world. I clearly don't belong in it."

  I turn to her, and I know that we're still in front of the photographers, but I don't care. "You deserve this, Sally. You belong in any world you want to. Never doubt that." She's not looking at me, and even when I lift her chin she tries to not meet my eyes. "You don't believe me?"

  "It's a little hard to. I'll explain when we get inside."

  "All right."

  I wasn't lying when I told her that I'm not a celebrity. I'm not, in the traditional sense of the word. I'm not a household name, and most people probably wouldn't know who I am. But in certain situations, I do have advantages. For example, when we enter the restaurant, I need no introduction and there is absolutely no wait. The hostess and smiles and greets us, and immediately asks us to follow. We do, to a lovely table for two in the middle of the room.

  The Empire Room is very exclusive with just a dozen or so tables, so even though our table is in the center, there's plenty of room around us and we don't have to be concerned with being overheard. I pull out Sally's chair and she sits. I sit across from her as our waiter appears with the limited menu, but I'm not listening to him. I'm watching Sally. She seems dejected all of a sudden, and after the blissful glassy look that was on her face in the car, that's not what I want to see.

  I hold up a hand to stop the waiter. "Could you give us a minute, please?"

  "Of course, Sir." He disappears, no doubt used to the people who eat here and their need for privacy.

  "Sally?" She looks at me. "What happened?"

  She shakes her head. "It's nothing."

  "It doesn't seem like nothing."

  Reaching out, she straightens a fork that's barely an inch out of place. "This is just very sudden, and this morning—" She looks away. "This morning I had a job interview that went very badly. I wouldn't have hired me either. And it's a little hard to wrap my head around the fact that I'm living like a millionaire right now when I'm broke. I don't have a job, and the money I have left will cover my bills, but no more. I mean, I'm hopeful that I'll get one soon, but I don't belong here, Eric. I can't belong in this world when entry level jobs don’t want to hire me and I barely have money to take care of myself."

  She looks at me, and suddenly looks horrified. "I know this isn't sexy or probably what you want to hear. But I can't justify it. I'm really sorry, this isn't what I thought I'd be talking about when you asked me to dinner. I just can't stop thinking about it."

  Shit. Well, that wasn't what I had intended. "I'm sorry, Sally. If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize. That wasn't my intention."

  "No," she says. "This has been great, and it's fun to pretend. But I can't belong in any place I like. That's just not the way it works."

  "I disagree." She tilts her head, as if she's daring me to prove it. "Sure, you need money to eat at a place like this, but belonging here has nothing to do with the size of your bank account. They'll never know the difference. You are just as clever and just as beautiful, and if you believe you have a place here, you do, employment situation be damned."

  She smiles a little. "Thank you."

  "And if you need a job," I say, "I can help. There are open positions at Marshall Greetings. You wouldn't even have to interview."

  "I couldn't do that," Sally says, freezing. "I mean, thank you, but I couldn't. You said earlier today that you wanted to find out what this is," she gestures between us. "I do too. And if it didn't work out and you were suddenly my boss, that would really suck."

  I hadn't even considered that, but she's right. If one of us or the other decided this wasn't right for us, the other person would be stuck in a really awkward situation. "That's fair," I say. There's a silence for a second, and I have an idea. "I still want tonight to be fun," I say. "I asked you to dinner because I want to get to know more about you, what you like and who you are. So let's throw the rules out the window. Let's get dessert for dinner and just talk. No stress, no thinking about who else is here or how we might look. It's just the two of us."

  Sally smiles. "I'd like that."

  "Perfect," I say, and I raise my hand for the waiter. He appears immediately as if from nowhere. The Empire Room always has really good service, and I tip well for it. "We've decided that we'd like to hear your desserts for the evening."

  He blinks once. "Will you be ordering entrées, sir?"

  "If we're still hungry, we'll think about it, but for now we're in the mood for something sweet. What are you serving this evening?"

  He looks a little confused, and I glance at Sally to find her smiling. I don't want to make him uncomfortable, but the surprise on his face is really funny. He clears his throat. "The chef has decided that as a Valentine’s Day special he's serving a special deconstructed banana split for two. We have a selection of individual desserts as well, if those interest you."

  "I think that sounds pretty good," I say, looking to Sally. "What do you think?"

  She nods. "I'm on board."

  "We'll have that please."

  The waiter nods and collects our menus. "Very well, Sir."

  He might be nervous that he did something wrong or that his tip might be affected because we're not eating entrées. But he doesn't have to worry. He's helping me put a smile back on Sally's face, and for that reason alone my tip is probably going to be the biggest he receives tonight.

  "Poor guy," Sally says.

  "He'll be all right. You like banana splits?"

  She laughs. "It's ice cream, chocolate, and banana. There's literally nothing not to like. Though I have no idea what he means by deconstructed."

  It's my turn to laugh. "It probably means that everything is going to come separately and that we can combine it the way we like. But it also means that they have to do less work putting it together and get to charge more because it's a specialty item."

  "Ah," she says, nodding like it makes perfect sense. And then she collapses into laughter.

  "So," I say, "not to bring down the mood at all, but what do you want to do?"

  She looks at me. "Right now?"

  "For a job."

  "Oh." She's not smiling, but she doesn't look sad like before. More pensive. "Iris asked me this earlier today, and I can't even tell you. Ever since I graduated and moved to the city it's all just been about survival job after survival job. I've been so busy trying to make ends meet that I haven't ever really figured out what I want to do."

  "What was your major?"

  Sally grimaces. "English."

  I smile. "Why the face?"

  "Because it's like the most basic degree you can get. A good degree for people who have no idea what they want to do with their lives."

  I slowly take a sip of my wine. "I can't say that I agree with you."

  Sally stops and looks at me. "You majored in English, didn't you?"

  "That I did."

  She curses under her breath and I laugh. She laughs too, and groans. "Oh my God I am all over the place tonight. I'm so sorry."

  "Don't apologize. It's not easy to tell s
omeone else your dreams."

  She looks away, out over the room, and I get distracted by the curve of her neck and the way her hair is flowing around it. "I don't think I have any."

  "If I gave you a million dollars, and you didn't have to work for the foreseeable future, what would you do?"

  "I—" She stops herself, thinking. It takes a second, but I wait. This is something I really want to know. What someone would do with unlimited free time says a lot about a person. More than knowing their family history or what their favorite color is.

  "I'd travel," she says finally. "I've only ever been out of the country once, and that was to Canada, so it barely counts. There are so many cool and beautiful places in the world, and I'd like to visit them. Learn about them."

  I nod. "So you like history?"

  "Yeah, I do. I have my favorite eras, but I think everybody has that. But yeah, I'd travel."

  "Do you like to write at all? You could be a travel writer."

  She laughs. "I wrote a little bit in college for some classes, but I was never that good. It would be really fun though, that's for sure."

  I file that away for later because the deconstructed banana split has arrived and it's just like I predicted; it's all the typical ingredients of the dessert in separate bowls that our waiter arrays in an artistic design between the two of us. Three different types of ice cream, maraschino cherries, bananas cut in half, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, nuts. "Thank you very much," I say to him.

  "You’re welcome, Sir. Please let me know if I can help you with anything else." And then he disappears.

  "Where do we start?" Sally asks.

  I gesture to the dessert on the table. "Wherever you like."

  She grabs a spoon and dips it into the bowl of strawberry ice cream. "This was a really good idea," she says. "I don't understand why more people don't do this, it's brilliant. We're adults. Having ice cream for dinner should be mandatory like once a month."