by Marie Solka
It was 6:30 pm. I still had time to kill, so I sat on the sofa and tried to relax. I took a few deep breaths. As I inhaled I thought of my fears, and as I exhaled I remembered what Mr. Varo had said, that Greg wouldn’t ask me out if he wasn’t truly interested. I was more nervous than I’d been before any other date. That was the kind of power Greg already had over me.
I smiled, thinking of him that first day in his pajama bottoms and his pink robe. Not many guys could pull that off and still look sexy. When Mr. Varo said he walked around muttering to himself like a madman, I found it odd, but also endearing. Greg was just a deep thinker, probably trying to solve an equation that could be a scientific breakthrough.
Greg’s brain was definitely a part of his appeal. Brian had been good-looking, but lacking in the smarts department. It wasn’t that he was stupid, but he wasn’t intelligent the way Greg was. I sighed, remembering the night of the supermoon. It all came rushing in: his lips pressed against mine, his hands groping me, his…
The doorbell rang. I jumped up and checked my hair in the mirror one last time.
I opened the door. His sandy blondish-brown hair was a little messy, and he wore a pale blue shirt under a light gray V-neck sweater. He had glasses on this time. “Hey Sam,” he said, waving awkwardly. “You look really nice.”
“Thanks,” I said, blushing. I was already acting silly and it was only the first minute. “You’re wearing glasses. Are they new?”
“No. I’ve had them for a while. I wear them while I’m driving. Helps keep the other drivers alive,” he said, then broke into laughter at his own joke. It was a peculiar high-pitched laugh that didn’t match his speaking voice, but still it made me smile.
“Well they look nice.”
“Thanks.” He fixed me with his gaze as his laughter settled into a smile. He oozed sensuality but seemed unaware of it.
I was melting on the inside.
Greg opened the car door for me and let me get in before going around front and climbing in on his side. I liked that. He’d done it with the kitchen chair before too, so I knew chivalry wasn’t part of some carefully-choreographed wooing scheme. It was a real part of his personality.
After he put on his seatbelt he reached for a cloth to clean his glasses, and I couldn’t help but stare as he completed the task. I watched his fingertips move, his brow furrow as he focused on wiping away the smudges. How these simple things could turn me on I didn’t know, but they did.
“All set,” he said, then started the car and began driving. He glanced over at me and said, “You like Italian, right? I forgot to ask. I just assumed.”
“I love it,” I said.
At the first stoplight, he turned and stared at me like he’d done once before, like I was a specimen. No doubt he could easily observe my physical reaction to him. It was impossible to hide.
When we got to the restaurant he asked for a specific table - a quiet one in the corner.
“I did some reconnaissance on this place earlier,” he said as we sat down, “and this table seemed like the best spot for conversational purposes.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but had no words.
He blushed. “I don’t know why I just said all that.”
“Don’t apologize. I like the way you talk.”
He blushed again. We each got a glass of wine and placed our order. I didn’t want to load up on pasta and get bloated so I opted for grilled chicken with a side of spinach. Greg ordered a pasta sampler, and I wondered if he’d scouted the menu earlier, too.
He lifted his wine glass. “To the lady who saved my life.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, raising mine. “I only helped a little.”
He sipped from his glass, and the wine stained his lips a darker, luscious red. “The meds weren’t working all that efficiently. It was the human hand that cured me.”
I quietly gulped my mouthful of wine. He was being charming. I couldn’t quite tell if it was something he had to work at, or just a natural ability. Either way I was enjoying every moment of it. It was a pleasant surprise.
Our salads arrived. “If you say so,” I said. The waiter looked at me, thinking I was talking to him, then quickly retreated, realizing his error.
I picked up my fork and poked my lettuce. “You and your dad are funny together. You know that, right?”
“My dad’s awesome,” he said. “I love having him around. And I like to rib him sometimes.”
“He likes to rib you too.”
“Yeah. Like the time he called me out on my food quadrants in front of you. That was especially fun.”
“Is that why you ordered the sampler plate? Hoping for quadrants of food?” I said, trying to keep things light.
“Clearly the salad guy didn’t get the memo. The cucumbers are touching the mushrooms,” he said, smiling. He stabbed one of each and stuffed them into his mouth. I decided then that his awkward charm was natural, not at all rehearsed.
We ate in silence for a few minutes. Then I took another sip of wine and said, “May I ask about your mother?”
Greg’s expression grew somber. He took his napkin and blotted the side of his mouth. “She died of a brain aneurysm right after I graduated high school. For some reason I thought my dad told you.”
“No. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” I felt terrible I had brought it up. I just assumed his parents were divorced.
“Thanks. It was very sudden. You never know how long you have or what life will bring your way.” The way he looked at me toward the end of the phrase made me think that part was meant for me. His expression seemed…hopeful.
In that glimmer he looked like I felt inside, like I’d been feeling since the day we met.
“You take good care of your dad,” I said, changing the subject.
He shrugged. “I try. He’s the only family I’ve got, so I like to be near him.” He grinned. “He likes to joke that he’s obviously failed as a father since he can’t get rid of his 28-year-old son.”
I started giggling. Surely Greg could afford his own home. “Well, I think it’s sweet that you stick around to help.”
The waiter returned with the main course, and my mind drifted to Tabby. “My sister just went away to college. She left a little early because she found a great deal on an apartment. I already miss her,” I admitted.
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” he said. “What’s her name?”
“Tabitha.”
Greg paused. “Wait a minute. Your name’s Samantha and your sister’s name is Tabitha?”
“I take it you’re familiar with Bewitched. My mom clearly was a fan.”
“When I was younger and watched TV, I liked old episodes of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie. But my favorite show was Star Trek.”
“Why am I not surprised by that?”
“If you were I’d find it highly illogical,” he said, doing a perfect impression of Spock.
He reached for the bread at the same time I did, and as our hands brushed against each other I felt a spark. It was such a movie cliché. But also proof that some movie clichés are based on truth. I lifted my gaze and noticed his playful expression had returned. I gave him an identical look, and just then the waiter reappeared. “Is everything tasting okay?” he asked.
Greg nodded, and the moment was lost.
Halfway through my meal I was already full. Greg asked if I wanted dessert, but I said no. The truth was I could feel every seam in my figure-hugging dress. I excused myself to use the ladies room, and when I returned he’d already paid the bill.
As we walked back to the car I started considering all the different options of what might come next. Would he drop me off and give me a peck goodnight? Would he want to come in? And if I let him in, would I be able to stick to the Myszkowski plan?
We didn’t talk on the ride home. He had relaxing music playing in the background, not “let’s get it on” stuff, but new age music. The kind you might hear at a spa.
I wished it w
ould relax me.
Greg pulled in front of my place and parked. I waited for him to get out and open my door, but he stayed in his seat. When he didn’t speak I turned toward him. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. Then he looked at me, studying me in an analytical fashion. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?” I asked in a soft voice.
He let out one of his odd, high-pitched laughs. “I don’t think you’d really want to know.”
“I do,” I said. “In fact, now I’ve got to know.”
Greg sighed. Then he looked at me again, seeming unsure if he should say what was on his mind. “I was just thinking how nice it would be if we could have sex tonight, but since it’s our first date I realize it’s statistically unlikely.”
My jaw hung open. “Did you really just say that?”
“Um, yeah. I guess I did.” It was dark in the car, but I could tell he was blushing again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was totally inappropriate.” Then he got out of the car, came around and opened the door for me, and we walked to the front porch.
I stood opposite him, smiling, then I leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.
I managed to open the front door even though my hands were trembling, then I stepped inside and turned back to him. “I have something to tell you too.”
He gazed at me, looking incredibly gorgeous, his wild hair lit golden from the streetlight.
“I’ve been dreaming of having sex with you since the first day we met.”
His jaw dropped.
“Night-night,” I whispered. Then I used all the will power I had to slowly close the door in my dream man’s face.
Chapter 17
That night I ached for Greg more than I ever had. I couldn’t stop thinking of my lips touching his. The sensations that went through me were just like in my dream, only better. And this time it was for real.
I thought about him admitting he wanted to have sex with me. I hadn’t expected him to blurt out something like that. He was right – it was rather inappropriate. Coming from anyone else, I might have responded with a slap to the face. But it’s not like I wasn’t thinking the same thing. I thought it was only fair to spill my secret. I didn’t know which was better: the kiss, his surprising admission, or the look on his face when I told him I felt the same way.
I’d never forget it no matter how long I lived. It was priceless.
I grinned as I curled into my blankets. Then I spent the next hour remembering every detail of the evening. Despite the intensity of my desire for him, or maybe because of it, I was so proud I’d passed up the opportunity to fool around, which was damn near impossible to do.
Eventually I fell asleep. When I woke the next morning I noticed I’d received a text from Greg. He wrote: Remember that sweater I lent you? It smells like you. I slept with it last night. Does that make me a pervert?
I smiled, then wrote back: When I had that sweater I slept in it naked. What does that make me?
The phone rang. It was Greg. “Hey. What are you doing today?” he asked.
“I have something with my mom today,” I lied. Mrs. Myszkowski would be proud, but I felt bad for pretending to be busy. Still, I was pretty sure she was right. I had to make him work for it.
“Oh,” he replied, sounding deflated.
He was silent for a while. “Well when can I see you again?”
“I’m gonna be at your place on Wednesday. I could make it my last stop if you’d like.”
“Please do,” he said. “And Sam…”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Do you happen to have any more secrets like the one you told me last night?”
I thought of the supermoon and burst into laughter. “Boy do I ever,” I said.
“Really? What is it? Tell me,” he pressed.
“I’ll tell you someday. I promise,” I said. “Have a good day Greg. See you Wednesday.”
“I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me hanging.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Gotta go.” Then I gave him a phone kiss and hung up.
I stretched and got up to take a shower. Before I stepped into the hot water, I gazed at myself in the mirror. I didn’t just see a decent body, I saw happiness and confidence. I couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Myszkowski how things were going.
On Tuesday’s visit I got the chance to give her the run down. When I finished, she looked at me in awe.
“What a minute. Did you just say you pulled a Myszkowski?” She started laughing hard and began coughing. “I like that,” she choked. “That’s good.”
“Oh my goodness,” I said. “Look at you. You’re getting congested.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m okay.” She wiped her eyes so the tears wouldn’t ruin her mascara. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Reminds me of my daughter.”
“I didn’t know you had a daughter. You’ve only mentioned your son. What’s her name?” I asked.
“Her name was Dorota. She died of breast cancer five years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She smiled briefly through a pained grimace. “Thanks. She and I were close. Her first husband was a prick – excuse my French – but the second one was wonderful. She followed my advice in nabbing him. It’s a shame they had so little time together.”
“That’s sad,” I said. “You must miss her very much.”
“I do.” She sighed as I finished taking her blood pressure. “But enough about me. What’s your plan going forward with this fellow?”
“I don’t know,” I grinned. “You tell me.”
Mrs. Myszkowski’s heavily-wrinkled brow furrowed. “Just continue being yourself, keep him interested and make him work for it. That doesn’t mean you never jump in the sack. It just means you don’t do it too soon. I mean, you do want to sleep with him, right?”
I cracked up. “I’m surprised you’re not suggesting we wait until our wedding night.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “I’m old, not stupid. I know how the world works.”
“I stand corrected.” I logged her results and put my equipment away. “Anything else I should be aware of on this visit?” I asked, getting back to business.
“No.”
“Can I get anything else for you before I go?”
“Is that a trick question?”
I smirked. “Yes.”
She shooed me. “Go on. Get out of my house,” she teased.
I left Mrs. Myszkowski’s, smiling on my way out the door.
Later on my phone rang. “Hey Mom. What’s up?”
“Oh nothing. I just wanted to see how you are.” She had a distant sound in her voice again, like something was wrong.
“I’m fine. How about you? Is everything okay?”
“Me? Sure. Everything’s great,” she said.
I knew she was lying. I hated it when she hid stuff from me. My parents had been like that all our lives. Any relational issues were always dealt with behind the scenes.
“I called to hear about your date,” she said. “Tabby told me about it. How come you didn’t mention it? Was it supposed to be a secret?”
Funny how she could be tight-lipped but I wasn’t allowed to be. “No. No secret. I just wanted to make sure things went well before telling you. But yeah, we had a great time. I’m seeing him again tomorrow.”
“Oh, good,” she said. “Seeing him again so soon sounds promising.”
“I thought so too.” I smiled, thinking how badly he wanted to see me.
“Well I don’t want to take up your whole night. You must be tired from work.” She paused, then added, “Let me know how things are more often. Okay?”
She must be missing Tabby. She usually didn’t act this needy.
“I will. Hey, speaking of keeping in touch, how about I take you and Dad to dinner this Friday night? Are you guys free?”
“Your father’s out of town on business this week, but I�
��m free,” she said brightly.
I’d hoped to get them out together so I could be nosy. Guess I’d have to try again another time. “How about I stop by the house after work and we’ll go wherever you want?”
“Sounds good honey. See you then.”
I hung up, worried. I needed to stop by their place more often. I’d been working so much lately I hadn’t been making it a priority. That would change as of today.
I popped leftovers into the microwave and was about to dial Tabby when I got a text from Greg: My mind is working overtime trying to figure out your secret. It’s killing me.
I texted back: You’d never guess it in your wildest dreams. . . See you tomorrow.
Chapter 18
I couldn’t wait to get to Mr. Varo’s house. I left a gap in between appointments so I could once again steal some time to freshen up at home first. Afterward I changed out of my jeans and into a casual knee-length dress with flats. And though I had no plans to sleep with Greg yet, I wore one of my new bra and panties sets. They made me feel sexy, and sexiness seemed to be an integral part of my newfound confidence.
I smiled non-stop the whole way there. I hadn’t been so excited about anything in recent memory. It was without a doubt the most excited I had been as an adult. All because of a man.
I rang the doorbell and Mr. Varo answered. “Boy. Don’t you look pretty,” he said.
“Thanks.” I stepped in and looked around.
“Greg’s not here. He ran out to rent some movies.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought he doesn’t watch TV?”
“He doesn’t. I suggested it. Told him you’re a normal person and would probably like to do something normal like that.”
I smiled. “Cool. What are we going to watch?”
“We aren’t going to watch anything. I’m headed to a neighbor’s card game. You and Greg will have the house to yourself.”
I panicked. I wasn’t prepared to control myself sitting next to my dream man on the sofa. That was a whole other matter. It would take will of steel. “Oh, okay,” I said. “Well let’s get started then. How’s the foot?” I asked, easing into my professional role.
“Getting better. I’ve washed it and applied the medicated dressing you left as directed. And I even followed a proper diet.”