by Nella Tyler
I almost dropped the phone when I heard the knock at the door. “Dad,” I said, interrupting him in the middle of telling me something about what he wanted to do for Mom. “I’m sorry, Dad, but my ride is here. I need to get off the phone and head out.”
“Have a good night, sweetheart,” Dad told me. “We’ll catch up again a little closer to the holidays, and I’ll send you an email with what your Mom and I are getting on the different lists for the rest of the family.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said. “Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, sugar-booger,” Dad replied. “Stay safe out there.” I gave him an air-kiss goodbye and hung up, hurrying to the door in time for the second knock. Watch: it probably won’t even be Patrick. It’ll probably be the building manager or someone, here to tell me that there’s been a leak, or to talk about the Mormon Church. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and unlocked the door, turning the knob and tugging it open.
“Hi Patrick,” I said, relief washing through me as soon as I saw him. He was in a pair of jeans, a nice shirt, and a blazer, and I thought he must have spent a little bit of time after work getting ready himself.
“You look amazing,” Patrick told me, looking me up and down. “You know—I brought you a bouquet of flowers, and then right at the last minute I left it in my car. Totally forgot about it until just now.” I laughed.
“That’s okay,” I told him. “I’m sure they’re just as nice in your car as they would be in here.”
“I’ll see if we can get the restaurant to give us some water for them,” Patrick suggested. “Are you ready to go?” I checked the time—he’d arrived about two minutes early.
“Yep! Lead the way.” Patrick offered me his arm and I took it, closing the door behind me and making sure I remembered to lock it. It felt weird, going out with somebody—even knowing that I didn’t have work the next day, that I could stay out as long as I wanted, was such a novel experience I barely knew what to think about it. Focus on the positive. It’s going to be a good night. I moved a little closer to Patrick as we went to the elevator together, and started chatting about our separate days.
Chapter Four
Patrick
“Here are the flowers I told you about,” I said to Mackenzie, unlocking the passenger side door of my car and opening it to take the bouquet out. Since it was December, all that the florist had that looked good were Gerber daisies; so I’d gotten Mackenzie a bouquet of those. I thought too that a big bouquet of roses might be too much for a second date. “I hope you like them.”
“Daisies!” Mackenzie gave me a big, gorgeous smile, taking the bouquet from my hands and burying her face in the flowers for a moment. “I love them. They’re my second-favorite, in fact.”
“Oh? What’s your favorite?” I made a note to myself that if the date worked out, I was going to find a source for them and have them at the next date we went on.
“Peonies,” she said. “I also love pansies, but they don’t really sell them in bouquets. Roses kind of seem like a cliché sometimes, you know?”
“I thought that roses might be a bit much for a second date,” I admitted. I held open the car door for her and Mackenzie climbed in, still smelling her flowers and admiring them. I walked around to the driver’s side and noticed that sometime between when I’d closed the door behind her to when I got to the other side of the car, Mackenzie had unlocked it for me.
“Where are we going for dinner?” Mackenzie put the flowers on her lap and shifted in her seat, half-turning towards me. I started up the car and got the heat running; even with her warm dress I thought it might be a bit chilly for her in the car.
“A place I used to go to more often, years ago,” I told her. “It’s a great kind of place—casual atmosphere, good food.” I had hesitated when I’d made the reservations, memories of Joanne stirring up in my brain, but it was the best place I could think of to take a woman on a date. “Have you ever been to Girl and The Goat?”
“I haven’t!” Mackenzie smiled a little bit. “I’ve heard good things, but I never really had a chance to check it out for myself.”
“I went there a few times when it first opened back in 2010,” I explained. “I haven’t been in a while…” I moved into traffic heading into the deeper parts of the city, towards the restaurant. “But from what everyone tells me, it’s just as good as it’s ever been.”
“It sounded exciting when my friend went there,” Mackenzie said. “She told me it was kind of pricy.” She frowned slightly and looked down at her clothes.
“You’ll be fine,” I promised her. “And it’s not that bad, really—especially for the quality of the food. Don’t worry about it.” On an impulse I reached out and found her hand in the darkness and gave it a squeeze. “It’s my treat, and I’ve been looking for a reason to go for years.” That wasn’t exactly true; I’d been avoiding the idea of going—I always shot it down as a possibility when anyone suggested it for a business dinner. But it was one of the best restaurants in the city, and I thought there was no better way to get the ghost of Joanne out of my head than to confront it finally, with a woman I was interested in, to show I was moving on with my life.
We made it to the restaurant just in time to catch our reservation; I left my car with the valet and Mackenzie brought her flowers with her as I led her into the warm restaurant. The smells were amazing—as they had been years before when Joanne and I had visited. From the moment we walked in it was like we’d stepped through some kind of magical door into a totally different place, somewhere that had never even heard of Chicago. The hostess led us to our table and a second later the waiter was there to take our drink order.
“I think I should probably just stick to wine,” Mackenzie said, glancing over the menu quickly.
“Same for both of us,” I told the waiter. I turned my attention onto the menu for a moment to give Mack a moment to get into her comfort zone. I could see her glancing around the busy dining room every so often as she read through the menu, and once I saw her shake her head a bit as if she couldn’t quite believe where she was. Girl and The Goat wasn’t one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, but it was one of the better mid-priced ones, and I was looking forward to seeing what Mackenzie thought of everything they had to offer.
“It all sounds so good,” Mackenzie told me when I looked up from the menu. “I have no idea how to decide.”
“Why don’t we both order something from each section, and then we can compare and figure out what we like best?”
“That sounds like the best plan,” Mackenzie admitted; but I could see the doubt on her face—she could tell that the items on the menu were not exactly cheap.
“I told you, I’m treating. Don’t even think about what something costs. Just think of what sounds the most like something you want to try.”
By the time the waiter came back with our wine, Mackenzie had settled into her seat and lost the doubtful, nervous look on her face. “Are we ready to order?”
“I think we’re going to go for the obvious solution to the problem of too many good things to choose from,” I told the waiter. “We’re going to each order something from each section and share it—is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” the man said. I could practically see the dollar signs flashing in front of his eyes and reminded myself that the guy was living off of the tips he could make. I’d tip him at least twenty percent at the end of the night, as long as he didn’t do anything to screw the evening with my date up.
“Would you like to go first, Mack?” She looked startled for a second but then recovered again.
“I can do that,” she said, pressing her lips together and looking down at the menu. “I would love to try the roasted beets, the seared scallops…” Mackenzie looked at me, for a second uncertain again, and I nodded to encourage her. “The beef short ribs, and the goat satay.” She put the menu aside.
“And for you, sir?” the waiter turned to me after nodding his a
pproval of Mackenzie’s choices.
“I think I’ll have the chickpea fritter, Hamachi crudo, the pork shank, and the wood-fired oysters.” I glanced over the menu again. “Could we also have the bread with the brown butter?”
“Excellent choices,” the waiter told me. He offered to bring us another glass or two of different wines to pair with our plates and I checked with Mackenzie before agreeing to it; I didn’t want her to feel pressured into getting drunk, especially with a movie after the meal.
I’d been a little worried that the second date wouldn’t go as well as the first—that somehow, Mackenzie and I would have nothing to talk about; but as soon as the waiter left we were off and running, talking about our lives, our weeks at work. “I have to admit, I was a bit flustered when I got home,” Mackenzie told me. “There was an incident with one of my patients.”
“What happened?” I tried to see if remember if she’d looked like she’d been hurt when I’d picked her up, and to see any sign of it on her face, but Mackenzie looked just as gorgeous as I’d ever seen her: absolutely fresh, cute, beautiful.
“It’s not really a great thing to mention at a dinner table,” Mackenzie said, grinning at me wryly. “But one of the parents decided the best way to give her son plenty of energy for his session was a ton of sugar.”
“Oh god,” I said, groaning. I’d seen a few soccer games that left the rails from kids getting sick to their stomachs after their parents had given them sodas and candy. “Let me guess.”
“All over the place,” Mackenzie said, nodding slowly. “More importantly, all over me. I literally ran to the shower as soon as I walked into my apartment and scrubbed myself twice to try and make sure I wouldn’t smell like someone had gotten sick all over me.”
“I would never have guessed,” I told her. As we talked, our food started arriving and it was every bit as good as I’d remembered; I was even more pleased to see Mackenzie seriously eating—not just picking at her food. We traded plates and tried all of the dishes we’d ordered, talking about everything from the freak warm spell we were supposed to get in a few days to the blizzard that was supposed to follow it, the most recent Bulls game and the crazy state of local politics. By the time we left the restaurant to go to the movie theater, we were both so full that we agreed the only way we’d possibly be able to stay awake was to pick a comedy.
Mackenzie picked a movie with Seth Rogan in it and we went straight in, finding a good pair of seats towards the back of the theater. “Are you sure you don’t want a bag of popcorn?” I asked her, grinning.
“Oh god, I’d explode,” Mackenzie said, laughing and shaking her head. “As it is I’m surprised I managed to eat as much as I did!”
“I helped,” I pointed out. “And if you do get hungry again, I’m happy to visit the concession stand.”
“I don’t think I’ll be hungry again until next week,” Mack told me. “Now I may get you to get me one of those frozen coke slushies later on if you’re really willing.”
“I want this to be the perfect date,” I said. “If that means you need a frozen Coke, then I will get you a frozen Coke.”
The lights went down eventually, and the movie started; but within about twenty minutes, we both knew that it wasn’t going to be as funny as the posters outside had claimed. Mackenzie slipped her hand into mine and we started whispering to each other in the dark, each of us talking about ways that they could improve the movie.
I leaned in and turned Mackenzie’s face towards mine. “Since we’re not exactly watching the movie anyway,” I murmured, barely brushing my lips against hers. “What do you think?” Mackenzie chuckled quietly and brought her mouth up to mine. We started out just kissing, but I felt her beginning to warm up, and even though it was a public place—there were at least a dozen rows of people in front of us—I started letting my hands wander a little bit, getting a feel for the curves of her body. Ever since our last date, this was what I’d been thinking of. I nibbled at her bottom lip and slipped my hand up along her thigh just a little bit, feeling the warmth of her skin through the softness of her tights.
We kept making out until the movie was over and the lights came up; only the sound of the people leaving the theater snapped us out of it. I could feel the heat pooling in my groin. “Landon’s at his grandparents’ house for a sleepover,” I told her, panting a little bit.
“Is he?” Mackenzie’s eyes were bright in the light of the theater.
“Do you want to go to your place or mine?”
Mackenzie considered for a moment. “Mine. Let’s go back to my place.”
Chapter Five
Mackenzie
I felt a little nervous when I unlocked the door to my apartment to let Patrick in; it had been a while since I’d been with anyone—and I hadn’t been with very many guys in the first place. The minute we were through the door, Patrick closed it behind us and wrapped his arms around me, leaning in to kiss me hungrily. His hands wandered all over my body, touching me everywhere, exploring every curve. After a moment or two I started to feel the heat building up inside of me again, every nerve in my body tingling; I started kissing back, letting my hands roam over Patrick’s back, his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles rippled and moved. I pressed my body against his, moaning as he cupped my breasts through my clothes and gave them a careful squeeze.
Patrick started leading me away from the door slowly and I broke away from his lips panting. I was already soaking wet—I could feel the heat throbbing in my core, the tightness in my hips; I wanted him so, so badly. “I—I need you to go slow,” I told Patrick breathlessly. “It’s been a while.” Patrick smiled down at me, one of his thumbs brushing against one of my hardened nipples.
“Me too,” he admitted. “I am fine with going slow.” My heart was racing with a mixture of nervousness and the need to feel Patrick’s body up against mine, to feel him inside of me. I grabbed his hand and led him towards my bedroom, pushing the door open and reaching for the light switch blindly. He wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me close, and I shivered as Patrick’s hand found the zipper at my back and started tugging it down. I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, breaking away from his lips just long enough to actually look at them before Patrick claimed my mouth with his again; somehow I managed to get one button undone, and then the next one.
Patrick slid my dress down over my shoulders, and our arms tangled up as he started guiding the fabric down over my body, even while I continued to struggle with getting his shirt unbuttoned. I felt my dress fall to the floor, and kicked my feet free of it, stepping out of the heels I’d put on. Patrick pulled back, and I blushed as he looked at me from head to toe slowly, his gaze pausing at my breasts, my hips, and my legs. “You are so, so beautiful Mackenzie,” he told me, looking into my eyes. “God—I’m a lucky man tonight.” He tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside, and I pulled the undershirt free of his jeans, kissing him quickly on the lips until I managed to get the silky material up to his chest.
Our clothes fell to the floor bit by bit, and in a matter of minutes I was completely naked, inches away from my bed, and Patrick stepped back once more to look me over slowly. I squirmed a little bit, resisting the impulse to cross my arms over my chest or cover myself with my hands. While he was busy staring at me, I took advantage of the situation to take in every inch of him: broad shoulders, muscled chest, the flat stomach with the washboard abs. He wasn’t hairy—just a little bit of hair around his nipples, a dark line of it leading from his navel down to his thick, hard cock. I licked my lips as I looked at his erection; it had been a long time since I’d been with someone, but I thought Patrick might be bigger than any of the few guys I had slept with before. I gave myself a shake and felt self-conscious again. Patrick met my gaze once more, his hands coming up to cup my bare breasts, his thumbs rubbing slowly over by nipples. “Why are you blushing?” he asked me, smiling a little bit.
“You’re staring at me,” I pointed out, smiling myself.
Patrick pulled back from my lips and dipped his head down, bringing one of my breasts up to his mouth. I moaned as he latched onto my nipple, sucking and licking, his hand kneading and massaging my other breast. He pressed me back until I started to tumble onto the bed, gasping. Patrick steadied me as I went down, covering my body with his own, caressing me everywhere as he kissed me again and again. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, writhing as Patrick’s hand slipped down between my legs. I felt his fingers brush against the slick folds of my labia and a little moan left my lips, my hips pushing down for better contact. “Mm,” Patrick murmured, his mouth against my neck, brushing up to my ear. “You’re already so wet…god, I’ve dreamed of this.”
I squirmed as Patrick’s fingers worked, rubbing and stroking me slowly. He barely missed my clit with his fingertips, teasing me. I kissed his face, his neck, along his shoulders, my hips moving to get better contact. I trembled as I got more and more turned on by the moment, rubbing against Patrick’s body, against his fingers, hungry—starving—for more. He nibbled along my throat, his mouth dipping down to my breasts again, and I lost all track of time as he worshipped my breasts with his lips and tongue, kissing and sucking and licking, sending crackling electric pleasure through my body that I hadn’t felt in years.