Steamy Dorm

by Kristine Robinson

  Taking a deep breath, I ran my hands through my red hair. When I was younger, I had hated my hair, but I had grown to embrace it as just part of who I am. It was getting a bit shaggy to be honest and I gave it a considering look as some of it fell forward again. The phone rang and jarred me from my thoughts. I answered briskly as I gave myself a last look in the mirror.

  Mirabelle's voice came through the phone, "I thought you were supposed to meet me here."

  I knew that the "here" she was referring to was a boring but posh party that her father's business partners were putting on. The whole affair sounded snooze-worthy, but Mirabelle had begged me to go with her. I rolled my eyes and said, "I will be there. I'm sure you'll survive until I get there."

  Mirabelle sounded unconvinced, "You clearly don't understand how boring these corporate functions are."

  "I'll be there," I assured her as I hung up unceremoniously.

  ***

  The ballroom at the hotel was filled with men in tailored suits and women dressed far too opulently. The whole thing made me feel vastly under-dressed in my one good suit. The warm air outside had prompted me to keep the blazer over my arm. Mirabelle met me as I came fully into the room. Her arm looping through mine as she leaned in to whisper in a conspiratorial tone, "This place could use a good funeral march to spice things up."

  "Contemplating murder is the trademark of most of these events, is it?" I teased her.

  She rolled her eyes at me. "Yes," she said sincerely. We made our way through the crowd and the low mumble of polite business conversations. I felt sleepy just hearing the drone of voices. There was very little party to this party, I noted right away. Mirabelle introduced me to a few people as we walked that I nodded at with a forced smile. I was under no obligation to be charming to these people. Mirabelle's father was a partner in a law firm that specialized in corporate law. Most of the conversations that I overheard were about briefings and depositions.

  Mirabelle leaned in close and whispered, "See that girl by the door?"

  I cut my eyes over toward the door. There was a striking brown-haired beauty standing by the door looking very much bored to tears in a dress that fit just so in all the right places. Mirabelle was practically drooling against my arm. I chuckled. I said in a low whisper, "If you like what you see, why don't you go talk to her?" Mirabelle was a good-looking girl with her stylish angled bob that fell in blond layers around her face and big baby blues. She was a bit on the short side, but that had never held her back from acting like she was far larger than her petite 5'2". Her head came just to my shoulder and I gave her my patented imperious stare which she just sneered at.

  "She's way out of my league," Mirabelle said with feeling before she added, "But she is nice to look at."

  I said confidently, "She's looked over here several times, so if you don't go say hello then I will."

  Mirabelle glared at me. "Fine," she said with a huff. I watched her stalk away with a smile before I turned around to spy out where the refreshments were.

  I made my way over to the buffet. As I reached for a roll of pastry that looked to be stuffed with spinach, I felt someone bump into me. I turned to ask if the person was okay but stopped short. The man who had bumped into me gave me a charming smile that made me forget to breathe for a moment.

  "Are you quite alright?" The man asked in a smooth deep tone that sent a shiver along my spine. His blue eyes sparkled set against his tanned skin and striking black-hair.

  Remembering that the man was waiting on an answer, I cleared my throat and said, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

  "Oh yes," he said with mirth. "I should probably stay away from the bar though. Sometimes it’s the only way to make it through one of these things." He held out his hand. "Morgan Shultz, and you are?"

  I awkwardly took his hand and tried my best to give him a firm handshake. I said with a smile, "Gabriel Jamison."

  "Lovely name," he said with a playful smile as his tone implied that he found more than my name appealing.

  Playing the field never had been a talent of mine, but I gave him an appraising look over as we dropped our hands. His suit was a deep dark blue and fit him like it had been tailored to his body. His body deserved the pampering as I eyed his form hugged by the clean lines of the crisp suit. My eyes met his and I deliberately downplayed the smile I gave him. It never did any good to be too forward with these types. They always enjoyed the chase and I let him come to me.

  He leaned in slightly and asked, "What are you doing in a dreary place like this?"

  I shrugged as I slipped my hands into my pockets. "Got roped into it by a friend," I said keeping my answer vague. "I gather you are networking?" I inquired as I looked around at the crowded ballroom.

  "You could say that," he said. He gave me a grin which spoke of confidence and mischievousness. Morgan's blue eyes twinkled as he asked, "Want to go somewhere else?"

  Did I ever, but I just gave him another shrug. To say that I had been in a dry spell, was a vast understatement, but I was not stupid either. I could tell a playboy when I saw one. "Are you one of the lawyers or one of the business men?" I asked the question as I eyed him like a tasty treat. I watched how he moved and wondered if I was drooling.

  Morgan playfully leaned his head from side to side as if he was unsure. "Neither really. See my Dad is the owner and CEO of Agnelli Vineyards," he said with a note of disdain. He straightened and smoothed his jacket. "I'm supposed to be here learning the ropes so I can follow in his footsteps."

  "I see," I said as words left me. Agnelli Vineyards was the third largest quality wine vineyards in the world. My father had done some work for one of their local distribution centers. "Wow," I said softly. "I feel really underdressed now."

  Morgan chuckled and gestured at my white button up shirt. "I like it. It sets you apart from these stuffed suits and besides it looks good on you," he said with another charming smile. He ran a fingertip over the white cotton of my upper shoulder. "Very good, indeed."

  Definitely a playboy, I thought. "I like yours," I said and gave him a smile. "It has a great fit." I returned the favor and ran a hand over his forearm. The fine fabric smooth as silk beneath my fingers. "Feels nice," I said with a slow smile.

  He did not even bother to look down at his suit because he knew exactly how good-looking he was. Morgan suggested we go over to the bar and I agreed readily. He had obviously judged me not ready to leave, and if he wanted to ply me with drinks then that was fine by me. We talked for an hour about our lives while we drank. Morgan was trying to rebel against his father's stern guidance and I felt a kinship with him on that level. He was a lively person and I quickly became enamored with his vitality. He drew everyone around us into his stories. Before long we were at the center of an audience.

  Morgan was telling a particularly lively tale about a business meeting go awry with one hand on the bar beside me. He made sure he looked around at the people that were sitting near us before he settled his eyes back on me as he delivered his punchline. I laughed softly as I sipped the drink he had bought me. It was my third and to be honest, I was feeling the effects of it as a warmth settled into my blood. I had lost track of Mirabelle, but I was sure she was fine.

  I leaned into Morgan's arm near me. He gave me a grin which I returned. To my surprise, he did not offer for us to go anywhere again. Had he asked a second time, I doubt that I would have resisted. By the end of the night, I was sad to see the function end and wished I had taken the black-haired man up on his earlier offer.

  He seemed like he wanted the same things I did out of life. When Morgan slipped me a business card and told me to write my number down on it, I did so gladly. Whether the man would call was anyone's guess but it was a good ending to the evening.

  That night I dreamed of dark hair and blue eyes. In my dream, Morgan and I kissed in the crowded hall. The people paid us no attention. I only had enough attention for Morgan. His hands slid up and down my body as we kissed. My arms were around b
ehind his neck as I pulled him closer. We did not care about the crowd. We were only interested in each other. When I blinked my eyes open into the darkness of my room, I groaned and then laughed at myself. I slipped back off to sleep hoping to see the dark-haired man again in my dreams.

  Chapter 2

  Surprisingly, early the next morning my phone rang as I was getting dressed. "Hello?" I asked warily when I did not recognize the number.

  "Have you decided to come out with me?" Morgan's voice bantered into my ear.

  I laughed softly and smiled. "Still on the fence about it," I said nonchalantly as I pulled on my shirt. As he spoke my mind supplied me with images from the heated dream last night and a faint flush dusted my cheeks. Thankfully, Morgan could not see it.

  "Why is that?" He asked as if he was exceedingly curious.

  Pausing a moment, I considered why I should have reservations about the man. I chuckled and said, "You could be a murderer for all I know."

  "True," Morgan said. "But at least you would not have to put up with your parents."

  He had a point. "Point given, but I would prefer to not die," I said reasonably. "Where would we go hypothetically?"

  "Hypothetically speaking, we could go wherever you want," Morgan said and I heard a tapping in the background that made my brow furrow. "Just a moment, Gabriel." Morgan said and then I heard his voice farther away say something to someone else. I waited until he came back on the line, "Sorry about that."

  "You are calling me from work?" I asked in amusement.

  Morgan said in a disgruntled tone, "If my father had his way I would live here. It is just one of the many reasons that I plan on not being here much longer."

  "Oh?" I asked as I sank back down on the bed.

  He said, "My mother is from Italy. She was the sole heir of the Agnelli family and how my father got the vineyards to begin with. I've been thinking about heading back over to Italy and leaving my father to his distribution." Morgan sighed and continued, "But that is neither here nor now. So, where did you want to go?"

  "The beach," I said with humor. "I'm a simple guy, Morgan."

  Morgan chuckled. "I like that about you," he assured me. "When do you want your beach? Sunset? Sunrise? Both?"

  I shook my head at the man's blatant nature. "Subtle," I told him with a grin. "Let's start with sunset and just see what happens."

  "As you wish, Gabriel. I'll pick you up at around 5 to give us plenty of time?" Morgan said as if he had had the plans all worked out beforehand. After I agreed and gave him my address, Morgan said he had to get back to work and we both hung up after our goodbyes.

  I laid back over on the bed and realized I had just agreed to go to some unknown location, albeit a beach, with a man I barely knew. Morgan was a kindred spirit though and I felt the urge as strongly as he did to just do what I wanted, when I wanted. The next time my phone rang, it was Mirabelle. I relayed to her the conversation with Morgan.

  Mirabelle sounded as if she had choked on her drink. "Oh my god, Gabriel. Don't you think that's a bit fast?"

  "What? To go out on a date?" I asked in amusement.

  Mirabelle chided, "You just met him. You know, can't you just go out for a coffee?"

  "Did you just turn into my mother?" I asked as I slipped out of my room. My parents were both at work, so I knew that I would have the house to myself. Mirabelle made a sound of indignation at being called my mother. "Look, Mira, I just want to have a bit of fun. It's not like I'm eloping with the guy."

  She relented, "You deserve to let loose, but, wow, was that ever a fast turnaround. I don't think I have ever had anyone call me that fast."

  "That part surprised me too, but I am just going with it. He has the means and wants to rebel a bit. Why shouldn't I get a free trip to the beach out of it?" I rambled as I rummaged in the fridge and got some orange juice.

  Mirabelle laughed. "Think he would mind taking me too?"

  "Probably," I said and added, "Considering he's pretty much taking me with the hopes that I'll sleep with him."

  I heard Mirabelle snicker. "Morgan is a good-looking fellow. The problem is that he knows he is."

  "I can handle that so long as I get to look at him too," I assured her.

  ***

  The beach turned out to be an hour away. There were closer ones to where I lived in New Jersey, but Morgan insisted the best ones were further down the coast. This did not bother me so much. It was his time and money after all. If he wanted to go to a more out of the way beach, then so be it.

  When we arrived, I realized how out of the way the beach was. The beach was a private one which Morgan said his family had own for decades. It was in a secluded cove with a beach house.

  We took a walk along the beach as the sun dipped down low in the sky. The more I was around Morgan, the more I wanted to be around him. I let myself relax and just enjoy the man's company. My mother's voice in the back of mind, reminded me that I should be thinking about my future. The thoughts got shoved away. I did not want to think of my future now.

  The waves crested higher and I gave Morgan a grin as I kicked some of the seawater toward him. He countered by splashing at me as well. We swiftly were involved in a splash battle which left our clothes soaked through. Morgan did not seem to mind as he chuckled.

  "Did your father make you go into accounting?" Morgan asked with a smile as we called a truce and ended the splash war.

  I rung out the tail of my shirt and shrugged. "Nah. I like numbers," I admitted freely. "He would have supported me no matter what I had chosen."

  "I envy you that," Morgan said with a wistfulness to his voice.

  My curiosity got the better of me. "Your father wouldn't?" I asked.

  Morgan shook his head with a very serious look. "No. I have to carry on the family legacy. If I do not, then who will?" He said the words as if he had heard them many times.

  My expression was one of sympathy. "I'm sorry that he's like that," I said honestly. We had stopped in the surf and the waves lapped up against our legs. He was just a foot away from me and I felt my pulse speed up as I noticed how his clothes clung to his every curve with the sea water in them. I felt a blush rise to my face and I looked out across the ocean to cover my discomfort.

  "What's wrong?" Morgan asked me.

  I reluctantly looked at the man again. His black-hair was wet with the sea water and his cotton shirt was thoroughly soaked through. Out from under his wet locks, his blue eyes sparkled with amusement as though he could guess the reason for my discomfort. I laughed and said, "Nothing is wrong. I just realized how cold it is."

  Truthfully the evening wind sweeping off the ocean had taken on a cool edge. Morgan accepted this with a nod of his head. "Come on. Let's go warm up in the cottage," he said as he motioned for me to follow him. We made our way in silence back along the beach toward the house. The sun was falling slowly behind the horizon as I followed the man in the beach house door. The beach house had a cozy feeling but everything was of the best quality. Morgan walked over to a fireplace and pushed a button above it. A gas fire lit up and I felt the warmth hit me as I walked over.

  "That's feels good," I said in appreciation as I warmed near the fire.

  Morgan gave me a slow smile. "We can warm up faster," he said invitingly. His fingertips grazed over my forearm as he caught my eye.

  I had to admit, I wanted to. Giving into his demands too easily though seemed like it would set a bad precedent. "I don't know," I said.

  "Come on, Gabriel." He said with a teasing smile. "You know as well as I do, that you want to do this."

  Sighing at the infuriating man, I gave him a shake of my head. "I might, but I don't like being pushed," I said honestly.

  Morgan raised his hands in front of his chest in a sign of surrender. "I'm not forcing you," he said in a placating voice. "If you don't want to that's fine. It is a bit late though. Why don't we just sleep here tonight?"

  I agreed but watched him curiously to see what he was up to. After
we had warmed up a bit, Morgan suggested we take off our wet clothes and put them in the dryer. "What are we going to wear?" I asked cautiously as I followed the man toward the laundry.

  "Robes," Morgan said over his shoulder. "It wasn't my idea to get soaking wet, you know?"

  "I know that," I said with a laugh. "You just seem to be awfully eager to get me out of my clothes," I said to his back.

  Morgan laughed, "Admitted freely."

  I shook my head. Inside the laundry room was ample room and there was a wooden bench to one side with hooks over it. On the hooks were some terrycloth robes. Morgan pulled his t-shirt out from over his head and I awkwardly followed his example. I flushed as I realized that I had a bit of an erection. I wondered if Morgan would notice. I grabbed one of the robes off the hooks and turned my back to the man.