Gentleman Nine

by Penelope Ward

  My heart started to pound. What would have happened if I said yes? Would I really go to his apartment—well, actually, my place?

  Would the game continue beyond the bar?

  Would we roleplay our way all the way into his bedroom?

  Wishful thinking, maybe.

  Finally, I answered him, “I would love to.”

  Channing just kept staring at me. He was stuck. I’d totally stumped him.

  He suddenly fell out of character and flashed me a look of warning. “You wouldn’t actually respond that way, would you?”

  If we weren’t us, and you were you? I probably would.

  Feeling stupid, I shook my head. “No. I was just playing along.”

  “Good. Because you should never go home with someone you just met. Ever. I don’t care how good his game is,” he scolded. He was even hotter when he was angry.

  Channing was staring off and looked seriously worried. Guilt washed over me, thinking about Gentleman Nine.

  If he only knew about that. He’d kill me.

  Channing never resumed character, and much to my chagrin, it seemed the game was over.

  “Thank you for the practice run,” I said.

  He simply nodded.

  Surveying the room, I sighed. “It doesn’t look like you’re actually going to get to test your wingman skills out on me tonight, Lord.”

  He chuckled. “We apparently picked the lamest bar in Boston.”

  “It’s okay. I had no expectations. In my experience, nothing ever happens when you’re looking for it. You either have to make something happen for yourself, or it just falls into your lap when you stop searching. But when you’re sitting around passively waiting for something, typically it doesn’t happen. Sometimes, if you really need something, you have to take it into your own hands.”

  His eyes looked like daggers. “What do you mean by that?”

  I knew what I was referring to, but I wasn’t about to tell him.

  When I hesitated, he said, “You know, I’m as wild as they come. But over time, I’ve learned to think before I act. When people are feeling vulnerable, they’re more likely to do something stupid. You might believe that you want certain things that you may not really want. You might be more likely to act on impulse without thinking something through. Spontaneity in life can be both good and bad, but many of the mistakes we regret for the rest of our lives were born from a moment of impulsivity. Sometimes, when you know you’re in a vulnerable state, it can be good to take a step back and check yourself.”

  His words were random and oddly cryptic given what I’d been up to lately. It felt like God was speaking through him. I took those words in, but unfortunately, the longer we stayed in this bar and the more drinks I consumed, the more uninhibited and impulsive I felt.

  “I think I need another drink,” I said. “How about you?”

  “You want another Cosmo?”

  “I would love one.”

  When I took out my wallet, he placed his hand on mine. “I got it.” The feeling of his hand made my body react again.

  As Channing walked over to the bar, I admired the curvature of his ass in the dark jeans he was wearing. He was charming the pants off the older, female bartender. I felt really fortunate to have this handsome man buying me a drink and to have his full attention tonight, even if we weren’t together romantically.

  I got the sudden urge to shock him a little. Reaching behind my back, I undid my bra and slipped it out of the bottom of my shirt.

  “Hey, Channing! Catch!” I said before slinging the bra toward him.

  What I didn’t anticipate was my bra landing on his head. A wide smile spread over his face. Clearly, he was used to women throwing lingerie at him since he seemed amused but unfazed that my bra was currently hanging off his face.

  He climbed up on a chair and hooked it over the bar where it joined the bras of over a thousand other women who’d lost their minds here before me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  * * *

  CHANNING

  Amber taking off her bra was definitely…interesting. It made me realize what shaky ground I was on because it was a full-on struggle not to make my gawking obvious for the rest of the night. She was so goddamn sexy without even trying to be. I’d always thought so, but I’d never really gotten to see that wild side of her until tonight. Of course, knowing what she’d told Gentleman Nine about me—knowing she wanted me—made my inner conflict worse.

  I’d taken it too far with that “let’s pretend” game, too. It felt too real. I was playing off of our attraction to each other and experiencing actual chemistry with her. My strong reaction to her saying she’d come home with me was a little much. It’s not like I hadn’t picked up countless women in that exact same manner. But I couldn’t help feeling protective because her gullible response reminded me about the whole Gentleman Nine situation and how vulnerable she was.

  It truly was my intention to try to hook her up with someone decent if the opportunity presented itself at the bar tonight. But the more time we spent there talking, drinking, and reminiscing, the more I hoped no prospects came along. I was enjoying having her to myself. But that was wrong, because I really did want what was best for her. And that didn’t include me. And Gentleman Nine most definitely wasn’t what was best for her.

  I’d been relieved that she hadn’t contacted “him” again all week. That made me hopeful that she decided to nix the idea of seeing him and had come to the correct conclusion that it wasn’t the right move.

  As I sat up in bed unable to sleep, I decided to check the account I’d created just in case there was anything new.

  My stomach dropped when I noticed a new message from Amber that came in about fifteen minutes ago. She must have just sent it from her room.

  I braced myself and opened it.

  Dear G9,

  It’s been a few days, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was going to ever contact you again. I was leaning toward no. But as much as I’ve tried to distract myself, I can’t seem to let the idea of this go, even though it’s literally the craziest thing I’ve ever done. So, I’m thinking I’d like to move forward with a meetup. What’s the next step?

  —Amber

  My pulse raced.

  Shit.

  I needed to either not respond ever again or come up with something that would get my ass out of this situation. There was also the burning need to know the reason behind her sudden push to move forward. If anything, I’d hoped that my words of warning about impulsivity tonight would have helped steer her away from the idea of paying some man to fuck her. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

  Angry and perplexed, it took me several minutes to figure out what to say, and I ultimately came up with something short and sweet that would put the ball back in her court.

  Hey Amber,

  I didn’t think I was going to hear back from you. What changed your mind?

  —G9

  Hoping she didn’t decide to fall asleep, I waited for the next message to come in.

  Hi G9,

  Thank you for the quick response. I just came in from a night out with my friend—the one I told you about. He was hoping to serve as my wingman tonight. But no one worthy of his efforts ever showed. We still had a really great time. Well, I already told you about my attraction to him. We’d done this roleplay thing where he pretended to be picking me up in the bar so that I could practice my dating skills. We were flirting or pretending to, and his body was close. Anyway, I came home feeling very aroused. Also, I might be a little drunk. I don’t want to wait months or years to satisfy the sexual need I’m feeling. So, I’m taking matters into my own hands. Or maybe into yours. (That was bad.)

  Let me know what’s next.

  —Amber

  Blood was pumping through my veins and rushing down to my cock. I just started writing the first thing that came to mind. This time the words were coming from a different place within me.

  Amber,

 
It may not be my place to ask, but this man you live with…how do you know he doesn’t want you in the same way you want him? How do you know that he’s not the man for the job to satisfy you? Have you ever told him how you felt?

  —G9

  I knew one thing. I may not have been the best man to solve Amber’s little problem, but I was sure as fuck a better option than this dude she thought she was talking to.

  A few minutes later, she responded.

  G9,

  No, I’ve never told him anything and I don’t plan to. I really care for him as a friend and wouldn’t ever want to ruin that. I think I mentioned to you before that he was my ex’s best friend for several years. We were all friends and have a long history. Yes, I’m very attracted to him, but I’m not looking to make my life more complicated right now. That’s why I came to you. I just need to satisfy this physical need I have. I’ve only been with one person my entire life, and it’s been a while since I’ve had sex.

  I know the site said that photos are not provided, but do you have a picture of yourself you can send me?

  —Amber

  Fuck!

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I needed to end this, set a date to meet her, then figure it out and be done with this charade.

  Amber,

  I’m not able to send you a photo, but we can plan to meet a week from Saturday, early evening if you’d like. Say 4PM? I can book us a room at The Peabody Hotel. We can meet in the lounge first. If you’re having doubts at that time, you can walk away. I’ll completely understand. No fees charged.

  —G9

  How was I going to get out of this? Did I even want to? Should I come clean? Show up and confront her? Let her think he stood her up? I had no idea.

  A new message popped up.

  G9,

  Thank you for agreeing to meet me at a public place. I really appreciate that. The truth is, I won’t know how I’ll feel until I get there, until I see you. I’m sorry if that sounds really superficial. Please bring the medical paperwork you promised.

  That time sounds good. I can plan to be there.

  —Amber

  I had a week to figure this out. I typed.

  Amber,

  I completely understand. Let’s say 4PM at the lounge. I’ll be wearing a black polo shirt and will probably be seated in the corner. Otherwise, at the bar.

  If you need to cancel, simply message me at this email address by 3PM. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume we’re still on.

  —G9

  A final response came through.

  G9,

  Thank you. I will see you then.

  —Amber

  I shut my laptop and let out a deep breath.

  Amber…why?

  A part of me really wished I could storm down the hall to her room and ask her what the fuck she was thinking in agreeing to meet him. The other part of me was fighting my body’s reaction to the idea that she was turned on tonight because of me. It wasn’t fair to take enjoyment out of that thought given that I’d basically stolen that information. It was never meant for me to know.

  Then, an unsettling thought hit me. If I tell her the truth, what if she doesn’t understand that I was just trying to protect her? I could lose her friendship over this.

  The clock ticking in my head was practically deafening.

  My mouth was parched, so I decided to get up for a glass of water. I stopped short because I wasn’t expecting to see Amber in the kitchen. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting to see me either, because she was wearing nothing but boy short underwear and a thin tank top.

  Fuck me.

  “So much for sneaking a quick drink of water,” Amber said.

  She covered her chest with her arms, but it was too late. I’d already seen her breasts in their entirety through the thin white fabric, with their piercing nipples and tear drop shape.

  I wished I hadn’t.

  For the first time that I could remember in my life, I’d lost my words in front of a woman. Pointing my thumb behind me, I stammered, “I can…uh…I can come back.”

  Returning to my room with my one-eyed trouser snake, I wiped the sweat off my forehead. She’d been messaging me—G9—half-naked. My rigid cock was sticking straight up in the air. I was a lost cause.

  Then, a funny thought hit me. For some reason, this night reminded me of something from the animated movie, The Secret Life of Pets.

  I’m Tiberius.

  Holy shit. I’m Tiberius!

  I started laughing to myself.

  A date had dragged me to see that movie once. In the film, there was this sweet, little white Pomeranian named Gidget who entrusted the help of a red-tailed hawk—Tiberius—to help her find her friend, the Jack Russell Terrier who’d gone missing. The entire time, the hawk struggled with whether to help her—or eat her.

  Yup. I was Tiberius and Amber was Gidget.

  ***

  The next evening after work, I came home to a rude awakening.

  Upon entering, the sight of a man sitting in the living room took me by surprise. My heart sank because my first thought was that I’d interrupted some kind of hook-up.

  He didn’t see me come in, didn’t even flinch when I opened the door. His eyes were fixated on the television instead.

  Kitty was weaving in and out of my legs as I stood frozen, observing this man who was making himself at home in the living room.

  Was I about to interrupt something?

  Amber brought a man back here?

  My stomach churned, thinking that maybe she was freshening up, readying herself for something sordid with this guy.

  Since he hadn’t noticed me yet, I continued to stand there, sizing him up. He looked about mid-twenties, pretty good-looking, although he couldn’t dress for shit. He was wearing a vintage Fat Albert t-shirt. What the fuck? Where the hell did she find this dude? And where was Amber?

  Swallowing my pride, I took a few steps forward before I threw my keys down on the table. “Where’s Amber?”

  Turning his attention away from the television, he finally looked at me. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t answer me.

  What kind of game was this guy trying to play?

  I spoke louder, “Excuse me. Who are you?”

  Nothing. Not a fucking word. Cracking my knuckles, I prepared to knock him out if necessary.

  “Dude. Is there a reason you’re not answering my question?”

  The asshole not only continued to give me the silent treatment, but he then turned his attention away from me again and back to the television.

  My mouth hung open. And what was he watching? The Wiggles?

  What the fuck!

  Approaching him, I leaned my face into his, “Who are you?”

  The next thing I knew, his two hands landed on my head, pushing me into his face so fast that I had no time to react. His nose was buried in my hair as he pulled on it. It was like he was…sniffing me for dear life. He was. He was sniffing my hair.

  Barely unable to break free of what felt like a super human grasp, I managed to pull myself away just as Amber entered the room.

  “I see you’ve met Milo,” she casually said.

  “Who the hell is he?”

  She was laughing, and at that same moment, realization struck.

  Oh.

  Ohhh.

  Now, I felt like an idiot. A massive fucking dumbass. This wasn’t her date. It was her client, the special needs adult she takes care of at night. She’d never brought him here, so I never suspected it was him. Everything made total sense now.

  Rather than answer my question, Amber seemed to understand that I had figured it out. She looked utterly amused as she took a seat on the couch then wrapped her arm around him.

  “Milo, this is Channing. He has nice hair, doesn’t he? Did it smell good?”

  He smiled and grunted.

  “Yeah, I bet.” She laughed then looked at me. “Milo loves to smell hair. It’s his favorite thing to do. And if you’re fres
h meat like yourself, you’re gonna get extra special attention.”

  I nodded then addressed him, “Sorry, man, for overreacting. I didn’t know.” I looked at Amber. “Can he understand me?”

  She got up and nudged her head for me to follow her before leading me over to the kitchen.

  Whispering, she said, “Sorry, I just didn’t want to talk about him in front of him.”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “I’m not sure the extent to which he can understand something like an apology, actually. He can typically understand concrete things. He can request very simply but can’t converse or talk about feelings, stuff like that. But just because it doesn’t come out verbally, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand. There’s still a lot even I don’t comprehend.”

  “So, what does he…have?”

  “He has autism. He lives in a group home with other adults who have varying needs. But as you know, I take him out a few nights a week. I normally don’t bring him back here, but I ended up having to use the bathroom while we were out. Since we weren’t too far away, I figured I’d just come home. He loves The Wiggles, so I knew if I put that on, it would buy me some time to get a few things done around the house. Now, I don’t think he’ll ever want to leave.”

  “God, I thought I was interrupting something, thought you’d brought a man back here. He looks so…I don’t want to say normal, but…what’s the right word…typical?”