Strawberries for Dessert

by Marie Sexton

  “No. You can stay.”

  “I knew I liked you,” he said. If he said anything else after that, I didn’t hear it. I was already sound asleep.

  HE WAS still sleeping the next morning when I left for my daily run, but when I arrived back home I found him in the kitchen, making bacon and eggs. He was already fully dressed, but still barefoot.

  He indicated the pile of dirty dishes in the sink and said without looking at me, “I don’t clean, darling, but I can have somebody come and take care of the mess, if you don’t want to do it.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course. I pay Rosa double for the messes I make in other people’s homes.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  He smiled, but still didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on the bacon and eggs sizzling on the stovetop. “Not as often as you probably think.”

  “Do I have time to shower before we eat?”

  “If you make it fast.”

  By the time I was ready for work, breakfast was on the table. “Do you usually cook breakfast the morning after?” I asked.

  “It depends.”

  “Did you cook for Jared?” Of course I didn’t actually know that he and Jared had ever been lovers, but I was curious.

  He smiled. “I would have if he’d ever had anything in his house to cook. I’m pretty sure that man subsists on nothing but Pop-Tarts and beer.”

  When I finished, I looked over to find him watching me. “I hate to be rude,” I told him apologetically, “but I have to work today. I really need to get going.”

  “I didn’t think you put that suit on for my benefit, darling. I can go now and leave the mess in the kitchen for you to clean up, or I can wait for Rosa and have her lock up when she leaves. It’s your call.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to rush out. I just didn’t want you to be offended when I did.”

  “I understand.”

  “You leave for Paris today?”

  “My flight is at two.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know yet, darling. Until I feel like coming home, I suppose.”

  “Do you go there often?”

  “Several times a year.”

  “For vacation?”

  “I own a condo there.”

  “Really?” I asked, unable to keep the awe and envy out my voice.

  He cocked his head at me, obviously amused. “Yes. And one in Vail, as well as a house in the Hamptons—well, just a cottage, really, by Hampton standards—and another house in Kapoho.”

  “Wow.”

  He smiled. “Indeed. So darling, shall I call Rosa or not?”

  “I feel ridiculous having you pay somebody to clean my house.”

  “And why is that, exactly?”

  “It seems childish.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He looked down at his plate for a minute, and when he looked back up, his expression was guarded. “Tell me: would you prefer this be a one-time thing? Or would you like to discuss other options?”

  “What are the other options?”

  “My lifestyle isn’t conducive to committed relationships. On the other hand, I’ve never been all that intrigued by the idea of sex with random strangers. I prefer something in between.”

  “Is that what you had with Jared?”

  He was obviously amused by the question, but said, “Exactly. It was fun and casual and completely uncomplicated.”

  “And that’s what you’re proposing?”

  “If you’re interested,” he said, smiling flirtatiously at me. My type or not, he really was incredibly cute. And our time in the bedroom had been a lot of fun. Not that sex was ever not fun. But things between us had been easy and natural. Why in the world would I not be interested in what he was suggesting?

  “That sounds perfect,” I said.

  “Good. Then I’ll call you when I’m back in Phoenix.”

  Date: May 3

  From: Cole

  To: Jared

  Have you heard, darling, that global warming is actually nothing more than a myth? That’s the only explanation I have for the fact that there apparently was an unusually cold day in hell last week. And let just me say, thank goodness! Dry spell over, and none too soon. I’m back in Paris now, but at least I have something to look forward to when I get home. It’s all thanks to you, Sweets. I would kiss you for it, if that big bad boyfriend of yours would let me.

  I WASN’T surprised when Julia showed up at my house that afternoon.

  “So,” she asked teasingly as I let her in the door, “how was dinner?”

  “Really good. He’s an amazing cook. You should have stayed.”

  “Yeah right,” she said as she sat down on my couch.

  “How’s Tony?” I asked. The thing was, I didn’t actually care how her brother Tony was, and Julia knew that. It was a weak attempt to change the subject, and she didn’t bite.

  “Cole seems like a keeper!” she said.

  “Julia, it’s nothing like that. Dinner and sex, yes, but it’s not like we’re dating.”

  “Let’s see,” she said, ignoring me. “He cooks. He’s thoughtful.”

  She was ticking the points off on her fingers as she talked. “He’s super cute.”

  “He’s really not my type.”

  “And he’s rich.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Only a guess,” she said, and I rolled my eyes at her. “That’s like the trifecta. Plus one.”

  “So what?”

  “So, you’d be an idiot to let him get away.”

  IT TURNED out not to matter that Cole was out of town. The next few weeks were so busy I wouldn’t have had time to see him anyway. I only managed to spend a handful of nights in my own bed. The rest of the time, I was in Vegas, converting a major casino to our software. I owned a condo in Vegas, which was a little more personal than a motel room. But it still wasn’t home.

  It was almost a month before I heard from him. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and I was just headed out the door of my condo for another long work day when he called.

  “Hello, muffin. How have you been?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Muffin?”

  He ignored me. “I’d like to see you. Are you free any time this week?”

  I sighed. “No. I’m stuck in Vegas.”

  “You’re working? Isn’t it the weekend?”

  “There are no weekends in the hotel industry.”

  “You’re such a killjoy. How long will you be there?”

  “Several days, at least. Are you back in Phoenix?”

  “I am, actually. But it will be terribly boring here without you.”

  “It’s pretty boring here, too.”

  He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “I could change that, you know.”

  “You could make transitioning accounting data more interesting?”

  “Goodness, no. I’m fairly certain that’s not even possible. But I could at least make your evenings worthwhile.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, muffin. I dare say I can’t read your mind when we’re in the same room, let alone when you’re two hundred miles away.”

  “Are you offering to come to Vegas?”

  “Yes, if I won’t be in the way.”

  “I’ll be working during the day.”

  “I believe that’s already been established. I assure you, I’m quite capable of entertaining myself until you’re free.”

  I found myself smiling again. The idea of a few more days in Vegas suddenly seemed infinitely less dreary. “I would love to have some company.”

  “Good,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll be there in time for dinner.”

  He called me a few hours later, when his flight got in, and I gave him the address to my place and the key code to get in. I wasn’t able to get away from the casino unti
l after six. When I arrived back at the condo, I found him waiting. He was barefoot, wearing slim dark pants and some type of loose-fitting white shirt that accentuated the rich tone of his skin. He was setting plates of food on the table.

  “I didn’t have time to cook, so I ordered sushi.”

  It was an enormous relief to not have to fight the crowds at a restaurant again. “I think I love you,” I said lightly.

  He winked at me. “What’s not to love?”

  “I didn’t even know it was possible to have sushi delivered.”

  “Well this is Vegas, honey. Anyway, when you’re as rich as I am, you can have anything brought to your door.” He finished putting the food on the table and looked up at me. And then he stopped. His eyes slowly moved up my body, and his smile turned from casual to lecherous.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shook his head at me, still smiling. “There’s just something about a man in a suit, isn’t there?”

  “Don’t get too attached to it. The first thing I’m going to do is take it off.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he winked at me through the fall of his bangs. “My thoughts exactly.”

  It was after eight by the time we got around to eating. We were great together in bed, but once we were out of it, he kept his distance.

  He flirted with me incessantly, but there were no random caresses or spontaneous kisses. It was a casual companionship that was friendly, sometimes awkward, but not at all intimate.

  After dinner, we sat on the couch. I sat at one end with my laptop, watching the news and catching up on work. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled into a ball on the other end, reading a book. I couldn’t see what it was, but I was pretty sure it was in French. By the time I turned off the TV, he was sound asleep. I nudged him awake, and he followed me into the bedroom, but like before, he didn’t curl against me like a lover. He stretched out on his own side of the bed and fell back to sleep without saying a word.

  He was still sleeping when I woke up the next morning. When I was at home, I jogged almost every morning, but I hated to jog in Vegas. Something about exercising in the middle of all that decadence just seemed absurd. Instead I made do with the treadmill in my building’s fitness room. I went back to my condo to shower, and when I emerged from the bathroom, dripping wet with a towel around my waist, I found him still in bed but awake.

  “How much time do you have?” he asked as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

  “I have to leave in forty minutes.”

  He reached over and grabbed my towel and used it to pull me closer. He opened it up and dropped it on the floor, which was more than enough to get my full attention. His lips brushed my stomach.

  “Just enough time for a blowjob or breakfast, but not both, I’m afraid.”

  The tip of his tongue moved slowly up my shaft, causing me to shiver.

  “Who needs breakfast?” I managed to say, although my voice came out hoarse and breathy.

  He smiled up at me. “Good choice, sugar.”

  Date: June 8

  From: Cole

  To: Jared

  You’ll never guess where I am, Sweets. I’m in Vegas with Jonathan.

  Strangely serendipitous, isn’t it? I would love to give you the dirty details, but what comes around goes around. You’ll just have to use your imagination.

  I WASN’T surprised to find him in the kitchen when I got home that night. The table was already set. “I hope you don’t feel obligated to cook,” I told him as he put a big bowl of étouffée on the table.

  “Love, I don’t feel obligated to do anything. You should try it sometime.”

  I couldn’t even imagine how it must feel to be so free. “What did you do today?” I asked.

  “I read. I napped. I wandered around.”

  “Did you go to the casinos?”

  “Yes, but only for the shopping. I abhor gambling.”

  “Then why come to Vegas?”

  “I don’t know, love,” he said, giving me a sly smile. “It must be the all-you-can-eat bacon.” I laughed at that. “You’re here a lot?” he asked.

  “Enough to buy a condo here.”

  He let his cinnamon hair fall forward so I couldn’t see his eyes.

  “And what do you normally do for company when you’re here?”

  “Find somebody at the club or go to the bathhouse.” He shuddered dramatically, which made me laugh again. “Does it bother you that much?”

  “I admit I’ve only tried a bathhouse a few times, but I was never overly impressed with the selection.”

  “So what do you do when you’re traveling?”

  He tipped his hair out of his face and said with a smile, “I have friends.”

  “Friends like me, you mean.”

  “Of course.”

  “‘A girl in each port’?” I asked, smiling.

  “Not a girl in the bunch, love, I assure you.”

  “So who do you have in Paris?”

  “Arman and Jori. Arman is infinitely more fun, but he’s perpetually in and out of relationships.”

  “And when he’s ‘in,’ that makes him off-limits?”

  “Absolutely, love. His relationships never last, but I won’t be the one to break them up.”

  “And Jori?”

  “Jori is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.” He stopped short and winked at me conspiratorially. “Present company excluded of course.”

  “Of course,” I said, laughing. I was fairly average. I had no misconceptions as to who was probably better looking.

  “But Jori’s mostly in the closet,” he went on. “He only divorced his wife a couple of years ago, and we can’t ever go out in public. It’s such a bore.”

  “Hawaii?”

  “There’s a club in Hilo, but I don’t have the energy for that kind of thing. I find it terribly dull. It’s mostly college students anyway, and suffice it to say, love, those boys get a little younger every year.”

  “It does seem that way.”

  “But there’s a bartender there named Rudy. He’s not exactly an Adonis, but he’s funny and good in bed.”

  “Vail?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Vail isn’t nearly as entertaining since Jared started seeing that big, pissed-off cop.”

  “The Hamptons?”

  “There are a few options there, but mostly I choose to spend time with my gardener, Raul.”

  “Your gardener?”

  “Well, he’s not just my gardener. He works for several families in the neighborhood.”

  “That’s awfully cliché, isn’t it?”

  He grinned at me. “It may be, but honey, if you saw Raul, you’d understand.”

  I laughed. “Okay. So what about Phoenix?”

  “There are a couple of men I see occasionally. But the truth is,

  things in Phoenix had been dreadfully dull for the last year or two. You came along just in time.”

  “Glad I could be of use.”

  “Me too, love,” he said with a perfectly straight face. “As soon as we’re done with dinner, I’ll see what I can do to show you my appreciation.”

  THE next two evenings were the same. He cooked dinner both nights, and the food was always amazing. I fell into the habit of doing the dishes afterward. It seemed like the least I could do. But on the fourth night, there was no food on the table and no incredibly tantalizing aromas filling the condo when I got home. He came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but slim dark pants.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t cook tonight, sweets. I lost track of time.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed. “I’d offer to cook for you, but my repertoire is pretty limited.”

  He smiled. “How limited?” he asked, although I knew he was only asking so he could laugh at me.

  “Tacos, sloppy Joes, frozen pizzas, and spaghetti. Assuming I have a jar of Prego in there somewhere.” I grinned at him. “Any of those sound good?”

  He
laughed. Like his voice, his laugh was slightly feminine but very quiet. “Not even remotely.”

  He walked closer to me, and the look in his eyes was slowly changing from mockery to something else—something I had learned to recognize very quickly. “Do you want to go out?” I asked, although that heat in his eyes was giving me other ideas. My pulse was speeding up and my voice came out a little husky.

  “I do, actually,” he said. He was right in front of me now, but he kept his head down so that all I could see was his hair. It was a little bit damp, and I could smell the shampoo he used. “There’s a restaurant over at Wynn that’s supposed to be amazing. I made us a reservation.”

  “That sounds great,” I said.

  “But first,” he pushed my jacket off of my shoulders, and I let it fall to the floor behind me, “let me help you take this suit off.”

  WE FINALLY got dressed again and headed for Wynn. My condo wasn’t far off-strip, and we decided to walk. Not counting our disastrous first date, all of our time together had been spent in private, either at my house or at my condo. In that time, I had all but forgotten my first impression of him—but I remembered now.

  He was flamboyant. There was no other word for it. It was the way he walked: too light somehow, with too much movement in his hips. It was the way he stood with one hip cocked out. It was the cadence of his speech and the gestures he made and the way he held his head so that he was looking at me through his hair. Somehow, when it was only the two of us, it was less obvious. Less ostentatious. Less obnoxious. Yes, he still flirted with me incessantly. He batted his eyes at me—but only in jest—and he called me sugar or darling. But somehow, when we were alone, the full force of his affectation was dampened. Now that we were in public again, it hit me head-on. It seemed overblown and exaggerated. I felt as if the man I had been spending my time with and sharing my bed with was suddenly gone and there was a complete stranger in his place. Even in Vegas, some people were turning to watch him pass, smiling in amusement as they did. I found that I was slightly embarrassed to be seen with him, and I hated myself for it. It made me feel unbalanced and a little bit uncomfortable.