by Bella Grant
“I’m good, thanks,” she answered with a giggle. Like the young girl she was, perhaps not even eighteen, she batted her eyelashes at me. “Looks like somebody has a hot date tonight?”
“I do, I do, with the most beautiful woman in Atlanta,” I said, winking at her. “And I’m so lucky, because she agreed to cook for me.”
She giggled prettily as she laid the potatoes on the scale and punched in the code for them. “Steaks, potatoes, and salad. And this is a very nice wine,” she teased.
“You know, it’s funny. She prefers the boxed wine,” I told her with a laugh, shaking my head. “That’s why she’s so perfect.”
“Damn,” she whispered, staring at me. “I hope I have a guy who talks about me to random strangers the way you talk about her.”
I smiled at her. “As cute as you are, you have nothing to worry about.”
“You just made my day, sir,” she simpered. She told me my total and waited for me to slide my card through the machine, a huge grin on her face. When the receipt printed, she ripped it off and handed it to me. “I don’t need to wish you a good day, I bet. Thank you, and please come again.”
“I certainly will,” I told her as I grabbed my bags and carried them to the car. A kid offered to help me with my bags, which made me feel a little old. I placed them in the trunk and hurried to the driver’s side. Randi wasn’t supposed to be there for another two hours, but I wanted to make sure my condo was perfectly clean.
The woman I’d hired to clean his place once a week had been in the day before, but I still wanted to make sure everything was spotless. I’d asked her to change the sheets on the bed, clean all the counters in the kitchen, as well as sweep and mop. She had stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Mr. Messer, are you unhappy with my work?”
“No, no, nothing like that. You do a great job, Araceli,” I hurried to tell her. “And I’ve told you a million times to call me Eliot.”
“That’s not appropriate, sir,” she said, shaking her silver-haired head. The woman was at least twenty years older than me but insisted on calling me sir.
“Of course.” I nodded. “I’m sorry I’m telling you what to do. You’re the best person I’ve had. I’m just nervous.”
“I understand, sir,” she replied with a smile. She had gestured with her arms full of sheets. “I’ll just get back to work.”
I shook my head at myself as I drove home. My stomach was in knots, my thoughts were scattered, and I couldn’t calm down. I hadn’t been this nervous when I asked Debbie Angelo to prom because I hadn’t liked her much, hadn’t even tried to get into her pants at the end of the night. I liked Randi and could see myself falling for her hard. I had a picture in my head of us together on the beach, of us enjoying mai tais in the sun.
I pulled into the parking garage, distracted by a new vision in my head. I parked on the floor on which I lived and told myself to remember to text her to park on the top floor in guest parking and I’d meet her there to walk her down. The vision popped into my head as I reached into the trunk for our groceries. I tried to shake it out of my head as I used my keycard to get in and walked down the hall to my apartment, unlocking the door one-handed because the other was full.
I put the bags on the counter and began putting everything away. Since I was home, I let the vision fill my mind. Randi, whose body I had seen at Burlesque, lay naked in my bed, ready for me to take her. She smiled beautifully—a real smile, not like those ridiculous grins she shared at the club. This smile was like the smiles she presented to me on our date. Her perfect breasts lifted with every breath, and she reached for me with her arms as she drew her perfect legs up.
My cell phone dinged, jerking me back to reality. Again, I stood frozen, the steaks in my hand. Rolling my eyes at myself, I tossed them on the top shelf of the fridge along with the marinade Randi had requested. I searched in my pockets for my phone and read the text from Randi.
RANDI: Hi, Eliot. Is there anything you’d like me to bring?
ELIOT: Hey, gorgeous. I think I have everything.
RANDI: Not even dessert?
ELIOT: Got it covered. Can’t wait to see you tonight.
RANDI: Same here.
ELIOT: When you get here, park on the top floor of the parking garage and text me. I’ll come up there and get you.
RANDI: Will do. See you soon.
I could feel the smile on my face. In fact, my cheeks were starting to hurt. I put the rest of the groceries away, including putting the wine in a space I left open just big enough for the box. I wandered around the house, which was, of course, as clean as ever. I checked my bed, which was crisply made by myself this morning after getting up.
Everything was clean but me, so I headed to the bathroom, and like some teenage girl, agonized over what I would wear for our casual, at-home, second date.
At exactly four, my phone dinged again. Randi was on the top floor, waiting, so I rushed to the elevator and tapped my toes impatiently while waiting for it. Earlier, I was like a teenage girl worrying about my outfit, and now, I wondered if I should greet her with a kiss, a hug, or just a smile. The door opened, and I stepped inside and hit the button for the top floor, continuing to tap the toe of my shoe on the floor.
When it opened, she stood next to the doors, leaning on the wall. She jerked straight and smiled at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. Her brown hair, loose around her shoulders, blew gently in the wind, and she reached up and brushed a lock of it out of her face. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She lifted her eyebrows when the elevator doors began to close again. I threw my hand out and stopped it, and her laugh was the best sound I’d heard all day.
“Well, hi,” she said, her voice lowered and funny. She stepped into the elevator and right into my arms, taking the decision away from me. Her lips touched mine gently.
When the kiss—which had been rather chaste—ended, I smiled down at her. “Hello, yourself.”
She smiled as the elevator doors closed, and as soon as they closed completely, her arms snaked around my neck and she kissed me again. I backed her up against the door and ran my hands up and down her sides, ending at her hips, which I pulled against me. I had a killer erection, and I wanted her to feel it. If she wasn’t ready, I’d be okay with that, but I did want her to know what she did to me.
With a groan, she pulled away and looked up at me. “Cheesy line coming,” she announced. She looked down at my crotch, lifted an eyebrow, and said, “Is that a beaker in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
“Oh my God, a science joke! We were made for each other,” I exclaimed after snorting. The door dinged open, effectively ending our make-out session more than her joke had. “Here we are.”
I took her hand and led her to my condo, the door of which I had left ajar. With a worried glance down the hallway, she asked, “Aren’t you worried some weirdo will get inside?”
“Of course not. I’m probably the poorest person who lives here,” I joked—an absolute lie, but nobody knew any different but me.
“Doesn’t mean they won’t take something,” she said as she looked around, impressed. “I really like your place.”
My eyes followed her glance, and I tried to see it from her perspective. Compared to her apartment, I lived in the lap of luxury. I didn’t like where she lived, and though I felt strongly for her and was sure I could fall in love with her, she certainly couldn’t move in with me. I wanted to take care of her, though, to give her a better life. But at this point, she wasn’t ready for anyone to take care of her.
“Eliot?”
I jerked out of my weird reverie. “What?”
“I asked you about the set-up across and down from your balcony.” She tilted her head at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” I replied, shaking my head as I walked over to her and looked out of the balcony door. “Lost in thought. That, my dear, is the social center of my building.”
On the fourth floor of my buil
ding, an outdoor patio stretched the length of the building and housed three fire pits, two grills, and one outdoor fridge for the tenants’ use while socializing. Large, overstuffed outdoor patio chairs and couches sat around tables, mocking a living area setting, and a bar with stools was located in the center.
“Do you ever go out there? Hang with the other tenants?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and set my chin on her shoulder. I didn’t have to bend far because she was tall. “No, I’ve never been out there. Nor have I used the swimming pool, the gym, or the free coffee in the lobby.”
She laughed at me, placing her hands over mine on her stomach. “Why not? I’d be down there all the time. And the pool? I’d give anything for my apartment complex to have a pool.”
“You can come use mine anytime you want. But only if you wear that bikini you wore during your set at the club,” I teased. I didn’t want to ignore her job, and I was sure she could handle the teasing.
“So you remember what I wore that night?” Her voice was still playful and fun.
I kissed the back of her neck where I had scooped her hair out of the way. “I remember everything about you, Randi. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“That’s funny,” she murmured as she swiveled in my arms. When her eyes met mine, longing reflected in them, a longing that matched mine. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
She kissed me, a slow, sensuous kiss that stretched until I felt completely lost in her. Her arms tightened around my neck when I lowered my hands to her ass, but when I tried to break the kiss, her hands on the back of my head prevented it. She played with my tongue, letting hers circle mind playfully, sensually, until my dick was hard again.
Randi glanced down at the tent in my pants and chuckled. “That beaker in your pocket is dying to get out.”
“I wasn’t going to push,” I assured her.
“Then can I pull?” she asked quietly, her eyes staring into mine, though she blushed prettily.
“Are you sure? I’m not gonna say no, but I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to,” I explained.
She sighed. “Can I explain why I’m a virgin at my age?”
“If you want to.”
“Okay. I like you, a lot, and I want to have sex with you. I can’t stop thinking about it, actually,” she told me, her face so red I worried she was having a stroke.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I like you a lot, and if you had let me on our first date, I would have made love to you all night long,” I said with a smile.
She giggled. “I want you to, and I’m ready tonight. Kinda had the thought in my mind on my way here.” She cleared her throat and looked away.
“Are you sure you want to tell me? It’s really okay if you don’t,” I reminded her, holding her tightly to help her combat her fear. And mine. I was terribly afraid she’d been molested as a child or something dreadful like that.
“No, you should know in case I tense up,” she said. After a deep breath, she plunged in. “When I was little—seven or so—I walked in on a girl being raped by an older man.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed, shocked. “A little girl? Like your age?”
“No, she was a teenager. She was my babysitter, and I had gone to bed. A man broke in and attacked her. I saw it, called the police, and hid so he couldn’t find me.” She paused for a minute, breathing deeply to calm herself. I watched her strength return, almost like a being entering her body, and I was fascinated. “The cops got there and captured him as he was trying to leave. They took my babysitter away in an ambulance, and I don’t ever remember seeing her again. A really nice policewoman waited with me until my parents got home.”
“What a terrible ordeal, for you and for her.”
“Yes. I heard years later she was okay, and she and I are actually friends on Facebook. But we haven’t spoken of that night ever. My parents put me in therapy, and though it helped, I just couldn’t bring myself to have sex with just any man.”
I was flabbergasted. “Why would you choose me?”
“Because I can tell you’re special. I’m not sure why, but you are. And I’ve waited long enough,” she told me triumphantly, as if she had won a prize.
“Well, then, I am happy to oblige you. My answer is yes, I will make love to you,” I hammed it up, standing proudly with my arms up as if I were flexing my biceps. We needed a break in the tension, and silliness always worked.
She stared at me with narrowed eyes before laughing so hard I worried she would collapse. “I love that you make me laugh when I don’t feel like it.”
“I am at your disposal for whatever needs you may have,” I expounded in a British butler accent. “And right now, I’m starved.”
“Dinner will take a couple hours,” she told me, looking at me sideways. “I thought…”
“Let’s relax and enjoy each other’s company,” I told her, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen. “Have a little wine, enjoy cooking and eating a good meal together.” I stopped abruptly, and she ran into my back. I turned and pulled her close to kiss her. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. You won’t leave my condo unsatisfied.”
“I knew you were the man for the job,” she announced, smiling. “Let’s get to cooking so we can get to eating.”
Randi
We cooked, we ate, we drank, we talked. The night was perfect, and I was in love with him. At some point during the evening, my feelings slipped steadily from caring to love, a sneaky change that I was unaware of until he kissed me before we ate. He made up my plate for me, gushing about the delicious smells. When he brought my meal to me, he set it down, kissed my lips, and sat next to me to dig into his food.
He was the right man for me, I was sure of it, which is why the decision to have sex with him was easy despite my fears. Telling him, releasing that fear into the room, had healed me more than the therapy ever had. A new fear had entered my mind—a fear of loving a man who could decide he didn’t love me.
“May I be ridiculous and propose a toast?” Eliot asked me, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. I lifted my glass to mirror him, and he said, “To what I hope is going to be a beautiful, long-lasting relationship.”
My smile was so broad I’m sure I resembled Julia Roberts with her big, toothy grin. “It’s like you read my mind.”
He chuckled after we sipped our wine. “Let’s move to the couch and let our stomachs settle.”
I nodded, rising from my chair with my wine glass in hand. If we were going to have sex, I needed a little liquid courage. I hadn’t even finished the first glass he had poured for me because I’d been so busy eating. I could finish this one and still be in complete control of my faculties. My decision was made, regardless. I wanted this man, had been lusting after him since our make-out session on the plane.
We sat on the couch for another thirty minutes, chatting about all sorts of things. We enjoyed so many of the same things, it was like we were meant to be together. Horror movies and books, specifically anything by Stephen King, were our favorites, and we remained on that topic for quite a time.
After a discussion of my personal favorite, Salem’s Lot, the tension that had been building in my body broke. I set my long-empty wine glass down and faced the man who put my libido into overdrive. “Eliot, if you don’t make the first move soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”
He stared at me as if I had and laughed loudly. “I’m just trying to give you space.”
“I’ve had all the space I need. Time to crowd me.” I took his wine glass from him and scooted closer to him on the couch. I ran my hand down the front of his shirt and back up until I reached his throat. I let my fingers drift over his skin, and he hummed, his throat vibrating. “You have such a sexy voice.”
“Randi…” he murmured.
He cupped the back of my neck and drew me close to him for a kiss. His lips tasted like the wine, and I licked them, tasting his perso
nal flavor. My tongue slipped into his mouth, and he sucked on it gently before circling it and pushing his into my mouth. Our tongues knew each other and found the rhythm only true lovers know. I murmured his name against his lips, and it lit the fire of his arousal.
His hands fell to my hips, and with surprising strength, he lifted me and sat back against the couch, placing me on his lap, straddling him. Our lips didn’t lose contact while he moved me, for which I was grateful. And I was grateful that, by putting me on top, he was giving me control, letting me set the pace as I chose. I took full advantage of this and pulled his shirt off so I could touch his bare skin.
“You have seen me. Now I want to see you,” I whispered as I tossed the shirt far away and began massaging his pecs and shoulders.
“Do whatever you want, Randi.” His eyes were glazed with desire.
“I will,” I said to him.
I slipped from his lap and knelt between his legs. My hands continued to massage his torso, and I bent and placed a kiss on his chest near his heart. My tongue slipped out and flicked his nipple, and I smiled when he sucked in a breath. Mine were so sensitive, I had wondered if his were, and now, I had my answer. I placed my lips around his other nipple and sucked gently while my hands clenched his waist.
His head fell back, and he whispered, “You’re killing me.”
“You said that the other night,” I reminded him as I blew cold air across his wet nipples. He shivered, and I smiled. “You’re very sensitive.”
He looked down at me, so I reached up and took his glasses off to place them carefully on the table behind me. He bent to kiss me, and I enjoyed the feel of his lips on mine. I dragged my tongue down his jawline and across his collarbone, landing at the hollow of his throat. My hands landed on his pants, and I began to slowly unbutton them. He stopped me.
“Before mine come off, I need to get you ready for this,” he told me.
As a nursing student, I certainly knew the basics of sex, so I was well aware of what he meant. I stood, remaining between his legs. “Undress me.”