Modern Girl's Guide to One-Night Stands

by DRAYER, GINA

  “Shut the fuck up, Peter,” Simon said, not in the mood to deal with his ribbing, and took the phone off speaker. “Why do you think I did something to Julia?" he asked, afraid his sister was about to tear him a new one for being a jackass to her friend.

  “Because she hardly talked to me on the way home and when we got here, she grabbed her camera and left. I’ve known her for long enough, and she hides behind that lens when something’s bothering her. So? What. The. Hell. Did. You. Do?”

  “Megan, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now. I didn’t do anything,” he said. The lie left a bitter taste on his tongue, but he wasn’t about to discuss what happened with his sister. “She was pretty shaken-up after the hospital trip. Did you think about that? Besides, if she is upset with me, there's not much I can do now. We’re almost back to Chicago. Why don’t I drop her an email when I get home and make sure I didn’t do anything to upset your little friend?”

  “You’re such a douche. God, I wish you were here because you deserve the bucket.” Megan hung up before he could plead his case.

  Fuck. He hated pissing off Megan, but it seemed like that was all he could do these days. They’d always been close. They’d had each other's backs. But last night had nothing to do with her.

  He would write Julia an email and try to explain. She was reasonable and would understand. Especially if he explained about New York. A quick email was all it would take. Simon was starting to warm to the idea when Peter spoke up.

  “Meg sounded pissed. Did she threaten the bucket?”

  “She’s almost thirty. You’d think she’d stop acting like a child." Simon sighed and shook his head. “I blame you. You’re the one who started this. Knowing Megan, she’ll probably drive back to Chicago just to nail me with ice water.”

  “She told Heather Fitzpatrick I had the clap. I think a little payback was in order.”

  “Did you ever think maybe Meg did you a favor? From what I heard, Heather was a psycho bitch. You know, the ‘boil your bunny’ kind."

  “She could have just warned me off her. That rumor followed me for months. It was our senior year and I thought I was never going to get laid again. But that was a long time ago, and I got her back,” Peter said, shrugging it off. "So what did happen last night?”

  “Nothing. I took her to the ER and the roads were flooded, so we had to stay at a hotel.”

  “Sure. And that’s why you were hell-bent to get back to Chicago the second you walked through the door.” Peter laughed, leaning back in his seat. The mocking tone of his voice grated on Simon’s nerves. “Fess up. What are you keeping from Megan? Did you sleep with Julia?”

  “You two are reading way too much into this.”

  “Dude, we’ve been playing poker for years. I can spot your tell a mile away. There was something you didn’t want her to know. So go on, what was it? You couldn't have slept with her or you wouldn’t be in such a shitty mood. Did you make a move and get shot down? Because if she’s not interested, Megan will want you to back off. Julia is like her pet project right now."

  “I didn’t make a move on her,” Simon bit out between clenched teeth. He’d thought Julia was the only person he needed to worry about this morning. Between Peter’s constant probing and Megan’s anger, he was starting to feel like an ass. Why wouldn’t they just let the whole thing drop so he could handle it? “Have you forgotten about the Star Atlantic client? I don’t have time for a relationship. My head needs to be in the game.”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. Just don’t piss off Megan. Her anger tends to run downhill and I don’t want to catch hell for your screw-ups.”

  Simon rolled his eyes but was grateful when Peter changed the subject. They spent the rest of the drive home talking about a few projects that needed follow-up, and not about their weekend at the lake house.

  For the next week, Simon put in long hours trying to put the finishing touches on the Star Atlantic campaign. But it didn’t matter how many late nights he spent at the office. The minute he was home alone his thoughts would stray to Julia.

  He found himself wondering if she was angry at him. Did she think about him at all? He stared at his ceiling at night, unable to sleep. When he did close his eyes, all he saw was her freckled skin, bare and flushed with arousal. And that damn tattoo. He dreamed about exploring the dark path that ran up her spine with his tongue.

  By Sunday night, he was sleep-deprived and had the worst case of blue balls. It had been all kinds of wrong to leave without talking to her, and this was his reward.

  It had to stop. What he needed was closure. Stumbling through his dark room, he grabbed his laptop and headed for the living room. He’d shoot her that email he’d promised and explain his behavior. Then his conscience would be clear and he'd be able to focus again.

  He composed a brief message and sent it off, but was disappointed when he didn’t feel the slightest bit better. He went back to bed still frustrated, and decided if he didn’t hear from her in the next few days, he’d call the house and talk with her.

  Luckily, when he checked his email the next night there was a message from her. But it wasn’t what he’d expected.

  Simon,

  Thank you for the apology, but it wasn’t necessary. We both knew what we were getting into. Thank you for a nice night. No hard feelings.

  -Julia

  No hard feelings? He’d agonized over that apology letter, picking out just the right thing to say to let her know he was taking full responsibility for what he did. And this was her response? She might as well have been thanking him for fixing a flat tire or walking her dog.

  It was a brush-off. Plain and simple. He should have been relieved. It was exactly what he wanted to hear, but somehow that brief message caused his mind to shift into overdrive. He had this perverse desire to find out what she was really feeling.

  He hit reply, but stopped when he saw a website address at the bottom of her message. Simon followed the link to her professional photography site and was taken in by the beautiful nude silhouette on the splash page. He recognized the figure immediately.

  The photo titled In the Dark took his breath away. The lone woman completely in the dark, with strategic splashes of light highlighting the hills and valleys of her form. Even though Julia’s features were in the shadows and unrecognizable, he knew it was her. He could almost feel the smooth curve of that hip against his palm.

  He followed the link to the series of nudes, hoping to see more of her. But much to his disappointment, the photo from the splash page was the only one that featured Julia. The other photos were of various models, and while they were all beautiful, none of them were as striking as In the Dark.

  Now that he was in her portfolio, Simon’s professional curiosity took over and he started to explore her webpage. Most of her photographs were of landscapes and nature scenes, but there were a few other series of portraits. She had a way of capturing not only the beauty of the subjects but also their personality, and even though he knew little of the actual mechanics of photography, he thought her use of light and shadows was intriguing. Several of the images would have made great centerpieces for marketing material.

  Before he knew it, Simon had left several comments on her website, complimenting various photos using the “contact the artist” button at the bottom of the page. Just as he finished a quick note about a particularly striking shot of an elderly woman in a wheelchair, a chat box popped up.

  Julia: Simon?

  A blinking cursor next to his name taunted him as he debated how he should respond. It never occurred to him when he registered to leave a comment that it would open a chat with her. He wasn’t even sure she wanted to talk, especially after her cool email.

  After he didn’t respond, another message popped up.

  Julia: I appreciate the feedback. I’m glad you enjoyed my work. Thank you for stopping by my site.

  Chat ended.

  He fingered the mouse, telling himself to just drop i
t, but instead he hit the green “contact the artist” button again.

  Simon: You have a good eye. Have you ever thought about doing commercial work?

  The cursor blinked achingly slowly, and he thought she’d logged off. He was just about to give up and go back to bed when she responded.

  Julia: I’m not sure I’d do well in the commercial world. I couldn’t spend my days taking photos in a studio.

  Simon: A lot of ads use nature photography. I can think of a half dozen clients that could benefit from your work.

  Julia: That’s a thought, but I don’t think it’s for me. My best work comes when the mood strikes me. I’ve never done well with commissions. Something usually just catches my eye and I go for it. But that can lead to some interesting situations. One time I got locked on a roof of a building downtown for hours before someone found me.

  Some of the angles on the shots were odd and Simon could imagine her climbing trees and standing on fence posts to get just the right shot. The image of her, waist-deep in the frigid water, flashed in his mind, bringing a smile to his lips.

  But that thought just opened the floodgates. Images of that weekend flashed through his mind unbidden. Julia silhouetted against the full moon. Her skin glistening in the low lamplight as she pleasured herself. White teeth biting her lip as she came around his cock.

  Fuck. Just thinking about her made him hard. Simon shifted uncomfortably in the chair and tried to think of something else.

  Simon: How are the stitches?

  Julia: Fine. I have an appointment to get them taken out in a few days. It’s healing nicely, but I’ll have another ugly scar.

  While he’d been enjoying their casual chat, Simon wanted to try his apology again. He really needed to make things right with her. He’d screwed up big time and not just with Julia. She was Megan's best friend, and he would be seeing her again. He didn’t want this to cause problems with Megan.

  Simon: Good to hear. Julia, I’m sorry I left without talking with you. I was the world biggest asshole. I admit it. How are you?

  Her response took longer this time. He thought she’d logged off. He wouldn’t blame her if she did, and he started formulating a backup plan. Did FTD have a “Sorry I Left After Sex Without Saying Goodbye” bouquet?

  Julia: Don’t worry about it. I need to get to bed. Goodnight, Simon. It was nice talking with you.

  Chat ended.

  The little green box at the bottom of her page turned red.

  Even over the internet he could tell she was still extremely pissed, and normally he wouldn’t let it bother him. But a few nights later Simon found himself on her website again, sending her another message.

  Simon: How’s your work going? Any new photos?

  Blink. Blink. Blink. The cursor taunted him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He opened up his email and started sorting through the spam.

  His father had sent a short message with a guest list for the Fourth of July party and reminded him to invite only his largest client. Matt’s wife, Beth, asked about hotels they could stay at by the lake so they wouldn’t have to drive home after the party. Matt and Beth were expecting their first child. Simon had been happy for them, but he couldn’t help but feel a slight ping of jealousy. They’d all worked their asses off for the last seven years, but Matt had still found time to build a life for himself. Simon felt like he was in a perpetual holding pattern, waiting for everything else to fall into place before he could begin his.

  He shot back a reply insisting they stay at the house and closed his email. A flashing notice caught his eye and he realized that Julia had replied.

  Julia: I’ve just finished processing the moon shots. I think I’m going to do an extra-large print of the one with the crane for my gallery show. I can’t believe how good it turned out.

  Simon: Do you have it posted on your site?

  Julia: Not for public viewing. Give me a minute and I’ll add you to my private album. Let me know what you think.

  After a few seconds, Simon received an invitation to join a private site. He entered his information and the photograph filled his screen. It was stunning. The crane’s shadow was perfectly framed in the center of the moon’s light rippling on the water’s surface. The photo was dark, with pops of green and yellow highlights.

  There were other photos in the album titled Lake House. Even though she’d only asked him about the one photo, Simon found himself browsing the others and making note of the ones he liked.

  Again, the photos were mainly nature shots—the lake, wildlife, foliage. It was odd to view the familiar setting through her eyes. He loved the lake, but seeing it like this made it seem exotic. And while her nature studies were creative, it was the portraits that caught his attention.

  There were several of his sister, sitting on the deck, hair pulled in a messy bun, mulling over a stack of papers. A few shots of Peter and his sister on the boat, the day of Julia’s accident. If he hadn’t known them, he would have assumed they were lovers. They were enjoying the sun with full glasses of wine. Touching and laughing. The images were like snapshot into a secret world between them he wasn’t aware of, and Simon had the urge to call up Peter and ask him what the fuck he was doing with his sister.

  He put that thought aside for now and continued through the album. There were a few of Roger, the caretaker, leaning against his beat-up Ford, sweat gathered on his brow and light smudges of dirt across his nose. In his left hand he held pruners. Roger had probably been tending his mother’s roses. After all these years, it was the one thing in the garden he still did himself. Julia had captured the man perfectly in just a few photos. They were great, and he was beginning to think she had some kind of magical skill that caused her camera to steal the essence of her subjects.

  Then he came to the photos she’d taken of him at the boathouse. He looked distant and brooding against the backdrop of the lake. His features were hidden in the shadows as the bright moon blazed behind him. Where the other photos had captured a lightness in the subjects, Simon’s felt heavy and dark, and he wondered if that was how other people saw him.

  The message screen popped up.

  Julia: Well?

  He’d almost forgotten she was waiting on him. With one last look at his photo, Simon closed the album and shot her back a response.

  Simon: I love it. I agree. It would look fantastic blown up into a large print.

  She asked him about a few of the other photos—not the one of him—and then the subject moved to her plans while she was at the lake. Over the next hour they chatted about the area surrounding the house. He suggested some spots he'd always loved and she was nearly giddy when he told her about the abandoned estate to the south of the house. During their chat, he encouraged her to do more portraits, because they were his favorites.

  Julia: I’ve never thought my portraits were as strong as my nature photography.

  Simon: They’re great. The snapshots are wonderful but I especially like the candid pieces, and your nudes are fantastic. Are they for sale? If so, I call dibs on In the Dark.

  Art wasn’t his thing, but Simon wanted the one of her. He clicked back to that image and admired the way the light played off the swell of her breast. The photo wasn’t sensual, not like the others. No, this one was coy and playful. A promise of something more. Just like her. He wanted to ask her what she’d been thinking when the shot was taken, but she responded before he could figure out a way to ask without it sounding creepy.

  Julia: Figures. Flash a boob and men will pay big bucks. Sorry, but that one’s not for sale.

  He was surprised how much the thought of her naked form on someone else’s wall bothered him. To be honest, he wasn’t thrilled it was up on her public site. Maybe if he talked her into selling it, she'd have to take it down.

  Simon: Please tell me it’s not sold? I really want to buy it.

  Julia: No. I haven’t sold it. It belongs to the model.

  He actually laughed aloud at her response. Did she t
hink he couldn’t tell it was her in the photo? Sure, her face was covered by her hair and most of her body was hidden in the shadows, but there was no mistaking that body. The lovely sprinkle of freckles across her breast was a dead giveaway. Not to mention the legs and ass. He'd always considered himself a tit guy, but her round, firm ass made him salivate.

  Simon: Are you sure? I bet if you ask the model and told her it was going to a family friend, she might change her mind. I’m willing to negotiate price.

  Julia: I’m sure. If you want a nude, I have a few others. Have you looked at the series?

  Simon: That’s the only one I want.

  Blink. Blink. Blink.

  Julia: What is it about that one in particular?

  If he only knew. He was drawn to her like a moth to flame. It wasn’t just the sex, no matter how fantastic that was. He’d had great sex before. It was something about her. She was addictive. Even now, he felt like a junkie' his hands itched to trace her skin. Simon could almost see her, sitting in front of her computer. Gnawing on that bottom lip, waiting for him to respond.

  Simon: Honestly, I don’t know, Julia. There’s something special about that one. It reaches me in a way the others don’t. I understand if you’re not willing to let me have it. Especially after everything that’s happened between us. Just know, I think it’s special.

  He wasn’t talking about the photograph anymore and by her silence, he was pretty sure she knew it too.

  Simon: It’s getting late. Thank you for sharing your work. If you want, you can email me when you have something new posted. Goodnight.

  He didn’t wait for her to respond. Simon logged out of the chat screen and shut down his laptop.

  Chapter Eleven

  Modern Girl Tip #13: Keep It Casual—A one-night stand is not the appropriate time to dump all your personal issues. Keep the conversation light; don’t divulge your life story.

  Julia wasn’t sure when it happened, but sometime over the last few days she’d forgiven Simon. Just a few days ago she would have been happy never to have seen him again. And now they were staying up late into the night, talking about her work.