by Rosemary Rey
Trapped in my thoughts, he pulled me out of my reverie when he opened the passenger side door of his black Range Rover. He gave the valet some money and walked around to the driver’s side. The interior still smelled new. The black leather was soft and cool. I wondered if this was a recent purchase.
“Nice vehicle.” I said, hoping it would elicit more information.
“Thanks. I’ve had it a few months. Drives great, but I love my Mercedes Z4 more. My father told me it made me look like a pretentious prick. My mother said I should buy a family vehicle. I compromised and got this. I left the Mercedes at my house up North, so I couldn’t drive you in it tonight.” The two words that I grabbed and held onto were “family vehicle” and “house”.
He fiddled with the touch screen on the dash, pulling up the navigation, and punching in numbers and letters. I realized that he punched in my address in Charlestown. He knows my address? Did he commit it to memory?
“Well, it sure would fit a gaggle of kids.” I said looking behind me to the second row. When I turned back around, he looked at me seriously.
“A gaggle of kids?” His eyebrow lifting with the question he left hanging in the air. I thought through a reasonable response.
“I just meant that it’s a nice, safe vehicle for the driver and its passengers . . . big and small.” I offered, and slowly let out an exhalation, hoping I didn’t just embarrass myself with my incoherent rambling.
He slowly peeled out of the driveway, moving around the vehicle of the family that rode the elevator with us. “Do you drive?” He inquired, making polite conversation.
“I do, but I don’t own a car right now. It’s too expensive to park in the city, so I take public transportation everywhere.” He was silent as he listened to me speak. I continued, “I also like having the time to be with my thoughts, read, or just observe people; it makes the commute go faster.”
“You said you have to be at work to open the gym at 6 a.m. How do you get from Charlestown to the gym in the city?”
“I take a bus over the bridge and then the green line toward the gym. It takes about forty minutes once I’m on the bus. Timing is everything. I’m always on a tight schedule, which is probably why I hurried you tonight.”
“Is that safe? A young woman walking to the bus stop and waiting for the bus, and then you have to take a train. You open the gym by yourself?” He asked without looking at me. His eyes were trained on the road while the navigation’s voice led the way.
“I have no choice. Besides, I’ve lived there for almost two years. I know a lot of people in the neighborhood. I know the bus drivers and most of the riders who happen to keep on the same schedule. It may be hard for you to understand because it doesn’t appear that commuting by public transportation is a necessity. I haven’t had any problems. Do you have a problem with that?” I asked with a bit of annoyance in my voice.
“Yeah. I don’t want you walking alone early in the morning. I’m concerned that you’ll be assaulted or murdered.”
“Seriously?” I turned my body to him. “We’ve only known each other for less than a week and until last night it was just on a professional level.” I took a breath and continued, “Life is too short to worry about being assaulted or murdered every time I walk out of my home. I’m vigilant. I’m street smart. I can handle myself pretty well. And what business is it of yours?”
“It really isn’t my business, but you should be concerned for your safety.” He said through clenched teeth.
“Who says I’m not?” I interjected. “I’m careful and very capable of taking care of myself. After years of answering to my ex, I’ve depended on myself for two years and in that time, I’ve come to realize that I’m most comfortable not having to answer to anyone.” I stared out of the passenger window. We were both quiet. The only sound was the female voice of the navigation directing him the way to my home. I looked at his hand on the gear shift knob. He clutched it tightly. I looked up at his flexed jaw, keeping his gaze ahead when turning or changing lanes.
I put my hand over his and rubbed gently. “I’m sorry for being so defensive.” He didn’t respond. “It took me a while to reclaim my independence when my marriage dissolved. I was burned badly by my ex-husband, and I’m just very protective of myself.” I felt his hand soften under my own. He parted his fingers and allowed me to squeeze mine within his. I pulled his hand toward my lap. I reached under his arm and interlaced my hand and with my free hand I lightly caressed the back of his hand and wrist. His hand was so warm. His face softened. He looked at me and smiled.
“I didn’t mean to sound possessive or controlling. I’m just concerned. I like you a lot. I’d like to spend more time with you, and I’m not really good at articulating my opinion and feelings.”
“I’m not the best with male-female dynamics, so I apologize for flying off the handle. You’ve been really great.” I brought his hand up to my face and kissed the back of his hand. I then gave a kiss to each finger. He shifted in his seat, but never pulled away.
“You’re distracting me. This isn’t safe. It’s important to have two hands on the wheel at all times. Ten and two at all times.” I laughed.
“So, it wouldn’t be good to take your hand and put it here?” While not wearing any underwear, I pulled my dress up to my pelvis, opened my legs, and I guided his hand to my cut. With my middle finger, I guided his middle finger inside where he touched my clit. I opened my legs and inched forward in the seat, taking him in. I sat back and moaned as he voluntarily massaged me. He reached further down to enter my void.
“God, you’re so wet.” He said. With eyes on the road, he leaned over with his lips puckered, I leaned in to meet his mouth and gave him a strong kiss. He continued to rub me. The palm of his hand created a sweet friction on my clit. I leaned back and panted with pleasure. I kicked off my heel, lifting my right leg on the edge of the seat to open wider.
I kept my hand on his, urging him to continue pleasuring me. With each moan that parted from my lips, he rubbed me with his palm and flicked his fingers in me faster and deeper. I was at the brink of climax. I gasped as he moved his thumb to my clitoris. He stroked and rubbed until I came. I gasped and moaned as the waves of pleasure shot from my center and coursed through my body like a pebble rippling through still waters.
He kept even pressure on my mound until the sensation ceased. I pulled his hand out, lowered my dress, and wiped his hand and fingers with my already soiled dress.
“This dress has seen a lot of action in twenty four hours.” I said in hopes of diminishing my chagrin. He laughed and patted my thigh.
“Where is your underwear?”
“I left it drying on the towel rack in your bathroom. You might want to put that away before Glynnis finds it.” I said.
“I guess putting it under my pillow is out of the question?” He countered. I smiled. We laughed.
We crossed the bridge into Charlestown. I was close to home, close to leaving him. I didn’t know where this ‘thing’ was headed. Could I even call it a relationship? At this point, it was just sex. Really, really, really good sex. I was too bashful to ask. We were both quiet. The silence was gut wrenching.
I’ve barely dated, and I never experienced a casual sexual encounter before, so I had no point of reference on how to talk to him. It’s so much easier to make conversation with someone that I don’t want to sleep with, even easier with someone that I’ve concluded would never be interested in sleeping with me. I gave myself to this man and he just made me come in his brand new car. All, I can think about is that I really hope I didn’t ruin his seat.
“I don’t know how to talk to you.” I looked at him. Slipping my foot back in my heel.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. I can’t articulate why. I can have conversations with total strangers en route to work and at work, but with you, I clam up. Even saying this to you requires an immense amount of courage.”
He looked at me curiously. “It’s not just you. I get that a lo
t. My friends say that I’m a quiet observer. I think medical school taught me that. You listen and watch the patient, and think of what they could be suffering from. Once I have an answer, I tell them. I’m always thinking. You’ll have to bear with me when we’re together.” He said. I hung onto the words, ‘when we’re together’, which partially answered my question of whether we’ll see each other again.
“This is it, right there.” I said, pointing to my place. As always the narrow street was filled with parked cars. There would be no option for him to ask to park and come up. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Where’s the best place to find parking?” He asked.
“There isn’t any great place to park. It’s like this all the time in Charlestown. I’ll get out here and go in. Thank you so much for bringing me home.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to see you in?” He asked, caressing my leg. His fingers going up my thigh. I put my hand over his and leaned in.
“I wouldn’t have time to give you attention. I’ve got a lot to do before I go to bed. I have to prep for the week, and I have to get to bed as soon as I’m done because I must wake up super early.”
“Okay.” He looked around, seemingly still looking for an open spot. “When are you free? I’d like to see you again. Maybe take you out to dinner?” He looked deeply into my eyes.
“I’m free Saturdays. It’s my only day off.”
“Not Fridays?” He asked incredulously.
“No, I took the evening off for Chelz’ party. I wouldn’t be able to take another day off for a while.”
“Where is your evening job? Maybe we can see each other afterwards?” He offered; his tone hopeful.
“I work at The Lighthouse Inn on the North End. My shift ends at 11 p.m.” He grimaced. It felt hopeless.
“I’m going overseas on Thursday and won’t return until Sunday. I was hoping to see you before I leave. I’ll check my schedule and I’ll call to see if you’re available. Okay?” He looked at me. I must have failed at appearing hopeful, because he touched my chin and pulled me close and whispered, “I’ll make sure to see you”. We kissed longingly. Before we got too consumed by each other, a car behind us honked. The Range Rover was double parked and was taking up a lot of space in the narrow two-way street.
He stopped kissing me. He let out a huge exhale. He pressed on the window button to lower his window. He waved the car to pass. Once the car passed, he exited the vehicle and walked to my side. He opened my door and offered his hand. Taking his hand, I exited the car, and smoothed out my trench and dress.
“Thank you again for everything. I hope to see you again.” I reached up and gave him a quick peck on the lips. I pulled to go, but he held my hand. “Good night.” I said gently pulling my hand from his grip. I walked to the small steps and looked for my keys in my clutch. I turned to see that he was still standing there looking at me, reminding me of the way he watched me walk away at the club. I unlocked and pushed the door open, looking back to wave one more time. He waved back and he walked toward the driver’s side. I closed and locked the front door, wishing this wasn’t the last time that I’d get to see him.
I took off my heels to walk the three flight of stairs. As I walked up the steps to my top floor studio, I relived the sensual moments that we spent together today. Even if we never see each other again, I’m comforted by the experience, and for that I am grateful to Doctor Dashing.
When I entered my dark and quiet little place, I threw the heels in the corner. I hung up my trench and shawl, vowing to get them dry cleaned. I walked to my charger on my nightstand and plugged in my cellphone. I took off my dress and hugged it to my chest. I laid it on the small round table that serves as my dining table and office. I wanted to pretreat it before washing. I looked at the time on the clock on my nightstand. I figured I had three hours to get all my washing and cleaning done before I needed to go to bed. All I could do was go to my twin bed and lay down on my stomach, clutching my pillow tight to my body to simulate the firmness of his body. It didn’t smell like him.
I missed him. I found it strange that I could miss someone that before yesterday never seemed like a possibility. I got up to take a shower and wash my hair. I found some waterproof tape to put on the gauze so that the stitches wouldn’t get wet. Every move I made I thought of him. I wondered what he was doing. I hoped he was thinking of me and planned on seeing me as he said he would. Mostly, I wondered what our next encounter would be like. Was it just sex? If so, could I just be with him sexually and not give him my heart?
After showering, I put on my sweatpants and pulled on a white t-shirt, and slipped on my fuzzy moccasins. I gathered all my dirty clothes, linens, detergent, grabbed a book, and went down to the basement laundry room to wash my clothes. After putting a load of wash into each of the two coin operated washers, I settled into the hard plastic chair to read. As I tried to read the words, my concentration fizzled and all I thought about was his touch, the things he did that made my body quake, the kisses that took my breath away. I tried to memorize the things that I did to bring him pleasure; if I ever get a chance to be with him again, I wanted to pull it out of my bag of tricks. Who am I kidding? The only bag of tricks were from books, not from personal experience. The books fueled my imagination and I created my own list of things I wanted to experience, and now I want to experience it with him.
The buzzer from the washing machines snapped me out of my thoughts, and I put the clothes in the dryers. I didn’t even bother to read. I knew that I lacked the mental focus. My insecurities started creeping into my mind. I worried that he would think less of me because I slept with him so soon after meeting. I used un-lady-like language when I told him he could “fuck me”. I’d never been so irresponsible, so forward, so sexually charged. I was mortified. He’s my doctor. He’s a member of the gym. This could mess with my job. Could it? The only question that kept creeping up was, “what the fuck did I do?”
I suppressed it. There was nothing much I could do. It may have been a one-time thing. I’d only have to deal with him at the gym, if our schedules ever coincide. He also stated that he’s traveling on Thursday. After he heard my schedule, he pretty much seemed to give up by offering to ‘check his schedule’ and that he’ll ‘get back’ to me. I wanted to stop thinking about the future. It didn’t matter if we could get together because we come from different sides of the track.
He’s a doctor. His apartment looked like it was out of a design magazine. It must cost in the millions. I can barely move around my own apartment. I live paycheck to paycheck because I’m broke. I’m in immense debt. What the hell do I have to offer him? And the one word that I kept coming back to was “sex”. I had sex to offer. And that is what I wanted from him too. But a deeper part of me, the lonely side of me, wanted more. It wasn’t just about sex for me. It was about the possibility of having a compatible partner.
On paper, he fit the profile of the type of man that I wanted. The looks and height were a given, but the bonus was his gentle, loving, passionate, and gallant nature. However, I didn’t know enough about him. Rather, I didn’t experience enough of us together with our clothes on to know if we’re a match. We rushed this. How could we make a relationship work when sex came first?
A huge headache started swelling and clouding my thoughts. I shook my head and made a decision: I’m not going to make more of this ‘relationship’ until I confirm if it is a ‘relationship’. Only time would tell if we will spend time together again. Finally, I resolved that I wouldn’t worry about this and I will enjoy what I can get. I took deep inhalations and exhaled to calm my nerves. I didn’t want to upset myself before bed. I needed a good night’s sleep so I could work both jobs tomorrow.
The dryers buzzed within minutes of each other. I folded all my clothes and stacked them neatly in the basket. I walked up to my studio. I quickly put my clothes away. I made my bed with the crisp, white cotton sheets. I put the bedspread on and fixed my pillows. It felt like a cr
ime to climb into the perfectly made bed. I went through my to-do list. I decided that I could tackle the cleaning of the bathroom, kitchen, and floors throughout the week. I’m tired and emotionally spent.
I changed into my nightgown, turned on the alarm clock and settled into my soft bed, tucking myself in to read a bit before I fall asleep. When my stomach growled, I patted it and decided that I was not in the mood to eat, nor had the energy to prepare food, at almost nine in the evening. I turned off the light and turned on my little book light. I read about one paragraph before sleep overtook me. I slept deeply until my alarm rang at 4:30 a.m.
***
EIGHT
I got dressed, packed my frozen meals for the day in my cooler, and put my phone and wallet in my satchel, and grabbed my keys to get to my 5:07 a.m. bus. I bounded down the stairs and unlock the front door. After exiting to the street, I turned to lock the door. It was still dark out, and when I turned around, I heard, “Perla”.
I was startled by the voice in front of me. I looked to see Dashing standing in front of the Range Rover, the headlights illuminating him. “What? What are you doing here?” I asked, looking to either side of me, as I walked toward him. I was surprised and a bit creeped out by seeing him at this hour.
“I tried to call you last night. You’re phone went straight to voice . . .”
“Is there something wrong?”
“No. No. I left you a message that I wanted to drive you to work today. I figured we could spend a little time in between your jobs?” He walked over to me, stood close, and put his hands in his pocket, like a shy teenager talking to his crush. “Is that okay?” I smiled, put my hands on his waist, and I pulled him to me. I tiptoed up to meet his lips and gave him a peck.
A car honked behind the Range Rover. “What is wrong with this place?”
“I told you. Having a car in this city is inconvenient. He walked me to the passenger side and opened the door for me to enter. He jogged to the driver’s side, gave a quick wave, and entered the car. He pulled forward into the street.