by Glazer, J B
“I know. I did too.”
He grins. “Do tell.”
And so I do, leaving out most of the juicy details of course. “Jake’s not ready to go public yet, so you can’t tell anyone. He said I could tell you, though.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Simon stands up to leave, and I give him a big hug. “Thanks for hanging in there with me—and for your part in helping to move things along. If you hadn’t backed out of dinner on Friday, who knows what would have happened.”
“Well, I’d like to take some credit, although even if I had joined you on Friday, you would have been just fine. As I’ve told you, it was inevitable.”
I smile at him. “You’re a good friend.”
His cell phone rings. “Well, my dear, duty calls.” With that he’s out the door.
The week passes quickly. I have a lot of catching up to do after being out of the office. I’m glad to be busy; it helps keep me occupied until Friday. All I can think about, though, is seeing Jake again. We’ve been sending flirty texts all week. On Thursday I make a trip to Bloomie’s after work to get some new lingerie. I find a black lacy push-up bra with matching panties. Then I stop by the grocery store to get the ingredients for my dessert. I decide to make a chocolate soufflé. I’ll do most of the prep work beforehand, but for it to turn out right, I’ll bake it once I’m there. I have trouble going to sleep, as I’m anxious about tomorrow. I hope Jake doesn’t have a change of heart now that we’re back to reality. He’s a very private person; he said so himself.
Friday passes slowly, and I’m out the door at five o’clock sharp. I stop by my apartment and prep the soufflé. Then I slip into my new lingerie and a pair of black stilettos; I’m concealed only by a black trench coat. This is my surprise. It’s actually rather unlike me, but Jake brings out my wild side. This time I do a shot for courage. I pack a small bag with some clothes and a toothbrush. Then I gather the dessert and head downstairs to hop into a cab. On the way over, I smile, thinking about Jake’s reaction. It’s been only a week, but it feels like a long time since I’ve seen him. Finally the cab pulls up to his place. I’m just about to knock when he opens the door.
“Hi,” he says, giving me a warm smile.
“Hi.” I smile back at him shyly. Then he pulls me into an embrace.
“Come on in,” he says, taking my bags and placing them on the counter.
“Open the small one first.”
He pulls out the whipped cream. “What’s this for? Did you make a pie?”
“No,” I say, unbuttoning my coat. “I thought we’d have an appetizer first.”
He looks at me, and I let the trench coat fall to the floor. A smile slowly spreads across his face. “God, Lexi, you are so sexy. Do you know how much you turn me on?” He grabs the whipped cream and walks over to me. “You are a dream come true,” he whispers, as he opens the top and squeezes some into my mouth. He kisses me, and it tastes sweet from the whipped cream that’s slowly dissolving on my tongue. “I’ve thought of nothing but you all week. I’ve missed you,” he says.
“Show me how much.”
He kisses me again, more deeply this time. After a while he says, “As hot as you look, I’m gonna need to take this off.” He unhooks my bra and sprays the whipped cream over my breasts, slowly tantalizing me with his tongue. He lifts the can again, but I take it from him. “My turn,” I say. I pull his shirt over his head and unbutton his jeans. “Sit,” I command, pushing him down on the couch. I straddle him and pull off his boxers, pouring the whipped cream on his stomach. I slowly lick it off, working my way down. Then I take him in my mouth. I hear his intake of breath as he leans back and closes his eyes. I start out slowly, teasing him, and then I increase the pace and intensity, moving my head up and down, taking in as much of him as I can. “OK,” he says, and attempts to sit up, but I ignore his protests. “Lexi, this is going to be over before we get started.”
“We have all night.” I keep going, and eventually he comes in my mouth. I swallow, looking up at him with a satisfied smile.
“You can bring me an appetizer anytime you want,” he says breathlessly.
I laugh. “You haven’t tasted my dessert yet.”
“You’re killing me.”
“Actually I hope I didn’t ruin your dinner,” I reply, feeling a bit guilty.
“No, I was about to start the grill when you got here. Your timing is perfect.”
We quickly dress, and then I ask him what he’s making.
“Come. I’ll show you,” he says, leading me to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and takes things out. “We’re having a gorgonzola-and-mixed-greens salad with my homemade raspberry vinaigrette, sautéed vegetables, herbed potatoes, and skirt steak.”
“Well, you seem to be quite the chef. And here I thought you just grilled.”
“I don’t cook that often. I hope it’s good.”
“I’m sure it will be,” I tell him. “Thank you for going to all this effort. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Just sit back and relax. Can I offer you a glass of wine?”
“Yes, please.” Jake grabs a bottle from the fridge and pours me a glass. I really am touched that he went to all this trouble. “So how was your week?” I ask him.
“It was good. It’s so different being in that office. They’re much smaller, so there’s less politics involved in terms of getting things done, but they also have fewer resources. I’ll be going there quite a bit until things get more established.”
“Oh? How often will you have to go?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he says. “They need to build a bigger client base, which is where I come in. They don’t have a lot of clients seeking out their services, so I’ll be helping them find prospects. Once we start getting interest, I’ll have to help them with their pitch strategy as well.”
“You’re obviously viewed as a very valuable resource if Hartman and Taylor has entrusted you with starting up the office.”
“I guess. I know they’re looking for someone to run the New Business group but haven’t found anyone yet.”
“Don’t discount yourself. I’m sure they easily could find someone in this job market. They must value you highly if they’re willing to fly you out there and put you up.”
He smiles at me. “What about you? How was your week?”
“Pretty uneventful. I mostly played catch-up from being out of the office and so focused on the pitch. When do you think we’ll hear back?”
“I hope by the end of the month.”
“If we get it, at least it’s another account for our San Francisco office,” I tell him.
“That’s true. They can use all the help they can get.” He glances at the clock. “I’m going to put the steaks on.”
“OK. I’ll toss the salad.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Once it’s prepared, I look in Jake’s cabinets and get out plates and bowls. I manage to find the silverware and set the table. I join him on his deck and watch as he works.
“You’re grilling the potatoes too?” I ask as he wraps them in foil.
“Yep. I coated them in fresh herbs and parmesan cheese. Now I’ll cover them and grill them for about thirty minutes.”
“Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.”
I look around his yard and notice he has a table and chairs set up. “Do you want to eat outside?”
“Yeah, I figured we would.”
“OK, I set the table, but I’ll move everything out here.”
“That was thoughtful. I’ll help you.”
We carry the dishes outside, and he grabs a citronella candle for the table. About forty-five minutes later, everything is ready. The food is delicious.
“I’m so impressed you made all this.”
“You like it?” he asks me.
“I love it. Everything is perfect. Thank you for going to all this trouble.”
�
��It really wasn’t a big deal. I like to cook, but sometimes it’s hard to do for just myself. I’m glad I have you now.” He smiles at me.
“I’m glad too,” I say, smiling back.
After dinner I help clear the table. “I’ll wash the dishes,” I say, but Jake shakes his head. “Come on. Please let me do something.”
“You can get your dessert ready.”
“Fine, but after that I’m helping you clean up.” He watches as I prepare the soufflés. Once they’re in the oven, I start washing the dishes.
He tries to take one from me and says, “You’re my guest.”
“Jake, I don’t want you to see me as a guest. Here, you can dry,” I say, handing him a dishtowel.
The soufflés are done just as we’re finishing up the dishes. I take them out of the oven and let them cool for a few minutes. “OK, they’re ready,” I tell him.
As we sit at the island, I watch anxiously for his reaction as he takes a bite.
“This is really good,” he tells me.
“I’m glad you like it.” We both finish, and he tells me he wants seconds. “Sorry. I didn’t bring any more.”
“Actually I had a different kind of dessert in mind.”
“Oh, you can have as much of that as you like,” I say, as he leads me toward the bedroom.
The next morning, I wake up from the sunlight streaming into the room. I open my eyes and find that Jake’s side of the bed is empty. I walk downstairs, where I find him making pancakes.
“Wow, when you said you were cooking for me, I thought you just meant dinner.”
He smiles at me. “I was up early. I hope you like pancakes.”
“I love them.”
We sit down at his breakfast bar and dig in.
“Do you have anything planned for today?” he asks.
“I’m going to get my hair cut.” I haven’t seen Marco, my hairdresser, in ages because I’ve been so busy with work. He’ll probably reprimand me; he likes me to come in every six weeks.
“Where do you go?”
“To a salon that’s actually a few blocks from here.”
“What time is your appointment?”
“Eleven thirty.”
“OK. I’ll drive you,” he says.
“Thanks. What are you up to today?”
“I have to do some grocery shopping, laundry, and run to the dry cleaner. My uncle is hosting a dinner tonight, and I don’t have any clean suits.”
“Oh, what kind of dinner?”
“He’s having some of our top clients at his house. I’d invite you, but that would be a bit awkward considering he doesn’t know we’re dating.”
“Don’t worry. I understand.”
“Did you make plans for tonight?” Jake asks me.
I didn’t, but I don’t want him to know I was waiting to see if we were going to do something. “I’ll probably just have dinner with some girlfriends.”
“OK. Can I stop by later?”
“Definitely.” I look at my watch; it’s ten after eleven. “I should get dressed.”
“Do you have any clothes?” he says with a smirk.
“As a matter of fact, I came prepared.” I head upstairs and quickly change.
I come down, and he says, “I liked what you had on last night better.”
“Then you’d better come over after your dinner.”
“Believe me, I will.”
Jake drives me to my appointment and gives me a tantalizing kiss good-bye. I can’t wait to see him later.
I walk into the salon and head to the back to get my hair washed. I wait ten minutes before Marco is ready for me. Once I’m in his chair, he lectures me about how I haven’t been in to see him. I apologize and tell him I’ve been busy, as I try to look chastised. But it’s hard; I’m in such a good mood. “You seem different,” he says. He narrows his eyes at me. “You’ve met someone.” I nod and smile. “Tell me everything!” he exclaims. I give him the lowdown on Jake and our weekend in San Francisco. Sighing, he says, “Lexi, I’m so happy for you. Just enjoy it.” He knows all about what happened with Ben.
“I’ll try,” I tell him.
“Try hard.” He spins me around so I can see my hair. He did a nice job as usual. He left it long but lightened up my layers.
“Do you think I should color it?” I ask him.
“Don’t you dare! You have a gorgeous, rich color most women would die for.”
“OK, OK.” I give him a light kiss on the cheek and head outside. I call Jill to see what she’s up to tonight, and she says I should join her and Mel for drinks. “Sounds perfect,” I tell her.
That night, over martinis, I reveal the news about Jake. Even though they don’t know anyone we work with, I swear them to secrecy. I wonder if Jake will be mad I told them. I can understand keeping our relationship a secret from our coworkers but not my friends.
Just then I feel my phone buzzing. It’s a text from Jake. “Read it,” says Mel.
Stuck at this dinner. Would much rather be with you. What are you wearing?
“Oh, write something witty,” Jill says. If only they knew what I wore last night.
Clothes. But I think you’ll like what’s underneath.
Tell me.
You’ll just have to find out.
I look forward to it. I’ll be over around eleven. Will you be home?
I’m out now, but I’ll be home by then.
Good. I can’t wait to see you.
Around ten forty-five I head home. Roland is at the front desk, and I tell him he can send Jake up when he arrives. I put him on my list of authorized visitors then head upstairs, contemplating what to wear. I have on an embellished, black, scoop-neck tank with merlot-colored skinny jeans that have a leather-type coating. I’m not wearing anything special underneath, which gives me an idea. I hear a knock ten minutes later. I open the door, and Jake smiles at me, looking all sexy in his suit.
“How was your night?” I ask him.
“Better now.”
I invite him in and show him around.
“I like your apartment. It’s very homey.”
“Thanks, but you haven’t seen the best part.” I take him to my balcony, which faces east, giving me views of the lake and downtown. “Isn’t it a great view?”
“Yes,” he says, but he’s staring right at me. “So tell me, what’s underneath your clothes?” I motion for him to follow me into my bedroom. I slowly pull my tank top over my head then slide off my jeans. He smiles at my naked body.
“You know, you’re the first guy I’ve brought back here.”
“I’m honored. We’ll have to christen each room.”
And we do.
Over the next few weeks, Jake and I fall into a routine. On the rare occasion he’s not traveling, we pretty much spend every night together. We usually sleep at his place, but once in a while, he’ll stay at mine. He goes into work earlier than I do, so he often drops me off at my apartment before he heads into the office. Today I happen to have an early meeting, so he’s offered to drive me. I can tell he’s uncomfortable, and I assume he’s nervous someone will see us walking in together.
“Why don’t you drop me off down the block?” I suggest. “I can stop and get a coffee.”
“There’s a coffee shop in our lobby. That’s ridiculous.”
“Honestly it’s fine.”
“I don’t want you having to walk.”
“Jake, you do realize I walk to work every day, don’t you?”
“OK,” he relents.
“I’ll just hop out at the corner when you get a red light.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking into my eyes.
“Jake, it’s fine.”
I give him a quick peck on the cheek and make my way to Starbucks. I watch as he drives off, and he gives me a wave. This is fine with me, but I can only take it for so long. I decide I need to bring up the status of our relationship with him. This is getting ridiculous. I’m looking forward to the day when we
’re out in the open, and I won’t have to pull these kinds of shenanigans. It’s just that things have been going so well that I don’t want to rock the boat. I know it’s a hot button with him. We don’t get to see each other that often, so when we do, I like to keep the peace.
I head into my office and log in to my computer. I get an error message followed by a blue screen, which is usually a sign that I’ve lost whatever I was working on. Fortunately I didn’t have any unsaved documents open—at least none I can recall. I check my BlackBerry for this morning’s meeting details and head to the conference room. I’ll deal with my computer later. I spend the entire morning in meetings and finally get back to my desk close to lunch. I try logging in again but get the same error message. I poke my head into Nicole’s office.
“Hi. Are you able to get onto the network?”
“Yes.”
“Great. It’s probably just my computer then.”
I call IT, and they work with me to troubleshoot the issue. The tech guy tells me there appears to be a problem with my hard drive, and he’ll need to take my computer so he can investigate further.
“Can I get a loaner laptop?”
“Sure. I’ll bring one up to you.”
I’m very irritated. I’m super busy today, and this is my one free hour to get actual work done. It’s funny how helpless I’ve become without technology. I feel like I can’t do any work. What did people do back when there weren’t computers or e-mail? They probably were more productive and had healthier relationships because people actually picked up the phone to communicate instead of hiding behind printed words. I hear a knock on my door and look up to see Randy from IT with my loaner.
“I should have your computer back to you by the end of the day.”
“Thank you. I need to bring this one with me to meetings. I might not be back until after five. Should I drop it off somewhere?”
“Just leave it on your desk. I’ll come get it.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
It’s nice when people go out of their way to be helpful. Why does it have to be an exception rather than the rule? Realizing I’m in a crabby mood, I tell myself to snap out of it. I think the situation with Jake this morning is nagging at me.