by Clara James
“Secret?” Rosalinda’s eyes shifted unconsciously from left to right, as she tried to decrypt her friend’s request.
“Yeah,” came the quick response. “How do you attract so many guys?”
Rosalinda let forth a scoff that caused her to snort in a very unladylike manner. “Allie, plenty of men are interested in you. You’re not interested in them, that’s the problem.”
Allie blinked, as she shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. What I mean is how do you go about having a…” she hovered over the word, trying to find the right way to complete the sentence. “…casual thing.”
A slow grin quirked Rosalinda’s glossy pink lips, until she was beaming broadly. “You want to have a fling?” she asked, the smile so evident in her voice that Allie didn’t need to see her face.
“Maybe,” Allie shrugged defensively, unsure why her friend’s gentle teasing had prompted that reaction in her.
“Allie, you’re not really the one night stand type.”
“What if I’ve changed?” Allie responded, her face still a picture of solemnity.
Rosalinda’s brow began to crease thoughtfully, as the large grin faded from her features. “What’s all this about?” she asked, making a move to lean back into the couch, but stopping herself, when her skirt gripped her more tightly.
“People change,” Allie replied, her eyes drifting to her own legs and the blue jeans that covered them.
“I know,” the blonde woman nodded. “But not you,” she added, offering another flash of her teasing smile.
This time she was rewarded with a reluctant mirroring of the gesture. “I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking,” Allie confessed. “About what I’ve been doing with my life. I’ve always been so focused. First on my education, then getting my dream job, then working my butt off to be the very best.”
“You are the best,” Rosalinda told her matter-of-factly, with no hint of humor or insincerity.
“But I’ve missed out on so much,” Allie responded, with a frustrated sigh. “I never really got to let my hair down.”
“And now you want to?” her friend supplied, filling in the blanks.
“Yeah,” Allie nodded.
“Why now?”
“Why not now?” she countered. “I mean, there may not be a tomorrow, right?”
Chuckling lightly, Rosalinda couldn’t argue that piece of perfect logic, even if it sounded as though a very different woman was sitting by her side. “I’m still not sure you’re the love ’em and leave ’em kind though. I mean, do you really want to start hooking up with strangers?”
Allie bit her lower lip, while she considered the question. “No, I suppose not,” she agreed. “But maybe I don’t have to,” she quickly added, straightening herself in the seat and meeting Rosalinda’s eye for the first time since the pair had sat down. “Maybe all those lost opportunities aren’t lost for good,” she suggested, a hint of playfulness in her voice.
Giving another tug on the hem of her skirt, Rosalinda peered suspiciously at the friend who, until that afternoon, she would have sworn she knew better than anybody else. “What are you thinking?”
***
She’d been sitting for what felt like hours, watching the black cursor flash in the top left corner of the bright white, very empty box. The normal buzz of activity surrounded her. She could hear Kyle talking loudly on the phone, through the door he’d left ajar. A photocopier whirred in the corner of the bullpen, a low drone of voices assaulted her ears from all angles and there was the constant rhythmic tap of computer keyboards. She, however, could write nothing.
Allie had abandoned her assignment long before, knowing she had the better part of a week to complete it and that the simple task would, in reality, take her no longer than a few hours. It was not a sparse word document that filled her screen. Instead, she was looking at a naked email.
‘How does someone go about asking a man they haven’t seen for over five years, whether he wants to meet up for casual sex?’ Allie silently asked herself, blinking at the screen.
“Hey, Al,” an excited voice interrupted her musing. Grant’s desk was just a few feet away and rather than get up, he used his sneakered toes to propel the small wheels of his chair towards her. In his hands he held a manila file and on his face he wore an excited grin. “I think we can still get him. Look at this,” he offered, using one final thrust of his legs to reach Allie’s desk and flinging the document towards her.
She hummed disinterestedly, as she accepted the file. “What’s this?”
“It proves that a large amount of money went missing from Pelzer’s charity,” he enthused.
“How did you get hold of this?” she asked, her head snapping up.
“Perhaps best you don’t know,” he muttered, leaning conspiratorially closer and still bearing his broad grin.
“Grant,” she said, as though chastising a child. “You know we can’t use this.” She picked up the file, careful to keep it closed and handed it back to the man by her side.
“But,” he protested.
“Do you have any idea what could happen to you, me and the paper?” she interrupted.
“You wouldn’t have said that last week,” he muttered, remembering how doggedly she had been willing to pursue the case and how little regard she’d had for what was ethical or legal.
“It’s not worth the risk,” she told him flatly.
“So, you think we can get him some other way?” the young gofer asked optimistically.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, turning back to the glare of the screen.
“I don’t get it,” Grant huffed. “What’s changed? I thought you wanted to nail this guy.”
“I did,” she tossed off-handedly. “I do,” she added, realizing she’d spoken in the past tense. “Look, I was too single-minded, there’s more to life than airing Pelzer’s dirty laundry.” She glanced at Grant over her shoulder, and was met by a look of incredulity, as though he half expected her to reveal that the statement had been an instance of her dry humor.
“Are you feeling okay?” he eventually asked, leaning back in his chair and regarding her carefully.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m moving on,” she added breezily. “If Kyle is killing the story, then we’ve just got to accept that.”
Grant prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, still unsure whether to take her seriously or not. “So, that’s it?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“Grant,” she sighed. “Life is too short to be chasing lost causes.”
“All right,” he quipped. “Who are you and what have you done with Allie Mclaren?”
“Ha ha,” she sarcastically responded. Focusing on her computer screen, she lifted her hands to the keyboard. “I’ve just got other things on my mind right now,” she told him, as her fingers unconsciously began to move across the keys. “Time waits for no man,” she added, as the speed of her typing increased. “Or woman,” she added quietly.
“Okay,” Grant sighed sulkily, pushing himself up from his chair and gripping the back. “When you come back to your senses and change your mind, you’ll let me know, though?” he suggested turning his back to her as he dolefully wheeled his chair back to his desk.
“Sure,” Allie called in response, not even aware of what he’d said. She was much too absorbed in the letter that was taking shape before her eyes. Her brain wasn’t consciously dictating the words that appeared on the screen, her fingers moved fluidly, almost independently of her. In a little under a minute, she had found the right way of phrasing her invitation.
Leaning back, she scooped her hair off her shoulders and pressed it in a loose ponytail at the back of her head. She scanned through the email just once, hesitated momentarily, before muttering, “What the hell?” As the words were murmured under her breath, she lunged forwards, grasped the computer’s mouse and clicked ‘send’.
***
It was three days later when Allie found her
self pacing the stretch of thick cream carpet by the foot of her bed. She wore a large bath towel around her body and a smaller one wrapped around her damp hair. Her iPhone was gripped tightly in her right hand, while her eyes flicked nervously between the floor and the black cocktail dress laid out on the bed.
“I just don’t know how to play it,” she spoke into the phone. “I mean, should I just be upfront about what I want?”
“What do you want?” Rosalinda replied, as she crunched on an apple.
“We’ve already been over that one,” Allie sighed, ceasing the nervous movement of her feet.
A moment of noisy chewing was followed by a distorted, “Just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“I know,” Allie replied, her voice low as she stared unflinchingly at the dress before her. “The problem is I don’t know how to get it.”
“Well,” Rosalinda began. “If it were me, I’d just see how the night goes. Maybe he’ll make the first move. If not, then don’t be afraid to do it for him.”
“I’m not sure I know how to make the first move,” Allie responded, her eyes growing wide in fear at the thought of it.
“Oh, come on,” Rosalinda laughed. “You mean to tell me you’ve never initiated sex before?”
“Not like this,” she protested. “Not on a first date, knowing that it’s just going to be one night.”
“You saying you don’t want to do it?”
“No,” Allie instantly countered. “I definitely want to. I’m just nervous that’s all.”
“Don’t be,” Rosalinda cooed warmly. “You’re going to be fine. Just be yourself and let things play out at their own pace. I’m pretty sure you won’t have to drag him back to your lair.”
“Okay,” came Allie’s forced confidence. She grasped the corner of the makeshift turban and yanked her hair free. “I’m going to have to get ready, or I’ll be late.”
“Go get him, girl,” Rosalinda encouraged smiling. “Hey,” she added suddenly. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Yep,” Allie quickly lied. “Everything’s fine. We’ll…umm…talk again soon.” Feeling awkward about her dishonesty, Allie tried to wrap the call up quickly. Thankfully, she received no resistance from the other end. “Bye,” she stated, pulling the cell phone away from her ear.
“Have fun,” Rosalinda managed to squeeze in, before the call ended.
Tossing the phone onto the bed, Allie sucked in a strangled breath. “You’ve done this before,” she scolded herself. “It’s just a date, it’s no big deal.”
Chapter Three
First Encounter
The hotel restaurant was quiet and atmospheric. A string quartet in the corner of the room played a selection of waltzes. The lighting was dim, but three tealight candles in the center of each table, illuminated the faces of the diners.
During the course of getting dressed, she’d managed to calm her nerves considerably. However, when she arrived at the hotel and found an incredibly handsome looking man carrying a single red rose, the butterflies in her stomach began flapping again in earnest.
Carl was even better looking than she remembered. His shoulders were broader; his chin, which had always been smooth, was covered in light stubble; and his hair, which had always been slightly too long and slightly too unmanageable, was short and neatly styled with just a touch of gel. Meanwhile, the faded T-shirts and ripped jeans, which had been his staple dress at college, had been replaced by a dapper charcoal suit and deep red dress shirt.
Throughout the dinner, Allie had slowly relaxed, thanks largely to the third glass of red wine she was sipping on by the time desert was brought to the table.
“So,” Carl mused, digging a fork into the chocolate torte in front of him. “I was really glad to hear from you, but…err…why did I hear from you?” He chuckled, causing two small dimples to dent his cheeks.
Allie felt her own face flush, as her brain supplied her with a very vivid image of what she’d contacted him for. She couldn’t bring herself to glance up into his piercing blue eyes, as she dismissed the question with a shrug. “Who knows what makes us do things,” she replied.
“Very true,” he acknowledged, leaning forwards with the fork stretched towards Allie’s mouth.
The unspoken offer was greeted with a smile, before she parted her lips and allowed him to slip the morsel of rich, luxurious chocolate into her mouth.
“You know,” he said, his eyes watching the subtle changes in her features, as she savored the mouthful. “I still think about you a lot.”
“Mmm,” Allie hummed, her eyelids flickering closed, as the gooey sweetness melted on her tongue and trickled down her throat.
Carl’s fascination grew more intense, as he continued to speak. “I sometimes think about what could have been,” he murmured, as he slowly began to withdraw the silverware from her grasp.
This time Allie’s moan was one of frustration rather than pleasure.
“Good?” he laughed.
Catching his eye, Allie saw something burning in them that she felt sure was mirrored in her own. “Very,” she nodded, somewhat breathlessly.
“I said,” he emphasized, returning the fork to the plate. “I still think about what could have been if you’d stuck around at that party, maybe had come back to my place.”
“Me too,” Allie admitted, her eyes drifting down to the sure and steady movements of his large, strong fingers as they delicately sliced another chunk of the desert.
“Yeah?” he smiled, glancing up at her.
“Yeah,” she confirmed, fixing him with an unashamed grin of her own. Moving of its own volition, she found her right foot stretching forwards slightly, until it came into contact with his calf. The table was small, making the intimate gesture easy. She regarded Carl’s face closely, assessing his reaction to the presence of her foot.
He said nothing, but his smile was briefly interrupted by a twitch of his lips, only to be replaced by a broader grin.
Satisfied, Allie quickly slipped her foot back and easily slid the four inch heel from it. “In fact,” she told him huskily, reaching forwards once more and rubbing the inside of his knee with her stockinged toes. “That’s why I got in touch.”
“Really?” he asked, humor quickly drifting from his face as Allie’s foot moved ever higher.
She was glad to find his legs widely parted and did not hesitate in following his right leg all the way up the thigh. “Yes,” she whispered, as her toes met the warmth of his crotch and she felt the unmistakable jerk of interest.
“And…err,” he croaked, before clearing his throat. “What do you think we ought to do about that?” The question was asked with a hint of desperation and Allie knew there could be no way to misinterpret the dilation of his eyes or the swelling at his groin. She had him now. The work was done and, Rosalinda was right, it hadn’t been difficult at all.
“We could go upstairs,” she suggested, seductively brushing the ball of her foot over the ever-increasing bulge pushed against the fly of his pants. The effect she was so obviously having on him, caused sparks of electricity to shoot through her own body. Heat flushed every inch of her skin and restlessness teased at the juncture of her thighs.
“Upstairs?” he echoed, higher brain function quickly leaving him as blood flooded in the opposite direction.
“I booked a room,” she told him with just a hint of faux innocence. “Just in case,” she added. Not waiting for him to reply, Allie quickly removed her foot, slipped it back into the shoe and thrust her hand across the table. She grasped his right wrist and began to lift herself from the chair.
His hand being gently tugged, Carl released the fork he still clutched, causing it to clatter loudly back onto the plate. Following her lead, he rose from the seat. Wincing at the discomfort in his pants, he silently thanked whoever decided to keep the restaurant so dark.
Turning her back to him, Allie confidently strode from the room, keeping Carl’s hand firmly gripped in her own.
She gracefully made her way out of the restaurant, swaying her hips just a little more than was necessary and guessing that his eyes would be focused in that general direction.
She was right. Carl’s gaze was fixed on the curve of Allie’s ass. It was pert and snuggly sheathed in the little black dress she wore. Entranced by the soft movements of those tight muscles, he barely realized that they were no longer in the dim confines of the restaurant, but the brightly lit lobby. As Allie came to a slow halt by the elevator doors, he tossed a glance around him and took a step forward.
She didn’t need to ask why he’d nestled himself against her butt. The erection that prodded at the base of her spine was no doubt noticeable. Nevertheless, he delicately wrapped his free arm around her middle and dipped his head to press his lips to her cheek.
“You smell good,” he whispered into her ear, taking another breath of the delicate hint of fruity sweetness and vanilla that lingered on her skin.
“So do you,” she repaid the compliment, noting that the smell of him hadn’t altered much over the years. Sandalwood and something vaguely citrus smelling, which she guessed was from his shower gel. Her attempt to inhale more of him was interrupted by the ping of the elevator and the soft whirr as the doors opened.
The pair waited, Carl still tightly pressed against Allie’s back, as a middle aged couple exited the car. Then, wrapping her own arm over the one he held around her abdomen, Allie shuffled forwards.
When the doors closed without admitting anyone else, Allie finally released her hold of Carl. She whipped around quickly and, placing her hands on his chest, propelled him back against one of the mirrored walls.
Carl expelled a surprised lungful of air. “You’ve changed,” he noted, smiling down at her, as she stared up at him like she was a starving woman and he was a plate of the chocolate torte they’d shared downstairs.
“Is that bad?” she asked, pressing her hips against his and reveling in the warmth of his groin against her mound.