Undersold

by B. B. Hamel

  “Is it my turn now?” I asked.

  He crouched down again and moved my hand. He kissed me hard on the mouth, which only excited me more. Usually, a guy moving my hand from his cock would destroy me, but he made it seem so natural and normal. From the way he carried himself, I knew I had to do whatever he wanted.

  “Not just yet,” he said, pulling away. “I’m afraid we may have been a little too loud.”

  I turned bright red. “I’m sorry!”

  “Not your fault at all. I take it as a compliment.” He kissed me again, and then sat back in his chair.

  I pulled my dress down and adjusted myself. He ran his fingers through his hair and did his best to fix the mess I had made. He bent down and grabbed my underwear, and he helped me slide them back on. I couldn’t get the image of his mouth between my legs out of my head, and my heart was still pounding.

  “That was perfect,” I said quietly.

  “Let’s meet later tonight.” He pulled my chair closer to him and pressed his hands against my hips. “I have to work late, but after.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “How does dinner sound?”

  “Great, anything sounds great.” I was babbling and repeating words but couldn’t help myself. I was lost in the post-orgasm glow, and couldn’t believe my luck.

  “Dinner it is then. I’ll pick you up around nine.”

  “That would be perfect.” I couldn’t believe he was going to take me out.

  He grinned big. “Alright then, let’s get back to work. Remember that, work?”

  I laughed. “I can barely remember anything right now.”

  We turned back to the laptop screen, but spent the rest of our meeting together laughing, kissing, and talking about nothing. We didn’t get any work done that morning.

  11.

  I keep thinking about you, the text from Shane read.

  I was sitting on my couch at home, thinking the same thing. His strong hands on my hips and his tongue all over me were the only things I could picture all day. I had just gotten home, and was killing time until I could see him again. I mean, this guy was so deeply a part of my thoughts right now that I couldn’t forget him even if I wanted to.

  I thought you were working, Mr. Green? I sent back playfully.

  Don’t start with that. I’ll have to leave this meeting early.

  Oh, sorry Mr. Green. I don’t know what you mean.

  You know exactly what I mean.

  I think you just loved getting your cute new employee off.

  I did love that.

  I had been lost in the glow all day, and I could barely think about anything else. I put my phone down and went into my closet, which suddenly was small and ugly. Nothing looked right, nothing was cute enough. Frustrated, I took a short shower, and finally decided on a tight dress, thin black stockings, and small heels. I didn’t know where we were going, so I decided to walk the line between casual and dressy.

  At nine on the dot, my door buzzed. I grabbed my smaller bag, which I had packed with an extra pair of panties and some other overnight essentials, just in case. I felt a little presumptuous, but I couldn’t help myself.

  He stood outside of my building. He was wearing an untucked gray button-down shirt and tailored dress pants. His sleeves were rolled up just below the elbow. He looked perfectly handsome and self-controlled, like he owned the streets and everything on them. He smiled up at me with that grin of his, and my stomach did flips.

  “Got changed for me, I see,” I said.

  “I had a feeling you’d outdo me if I didn’t.” He exaggerated looking me up and down. “Looks like you did anyway.”

  “Oh stop,” I said, laughing. We walked down my stoop and climbed into a black town car. There was a fogged glass partition separating us from the driver, and once we climbed in, the car started moving.

  “So, where to?” I asked.

  “A place I own, over on Market. I hope you like Italian.”

  “I love Italian.” I looked over at him. He was staring out the window with a faraway look on his face. I reached over and touched his hand.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He looked at me and shook his head. “Not at all. I just haven’t taken a woman out in awhile.”

  “Oh yeah, sure. I bet this is your first date in years.” I didn’t believe him at all, but I could tell something was going on with him.

  He smiled. “Actually, it is.”

  “Yeah, right. And I’m the rich one.”

  “Really, it is. It’s hard when you value your privacy and you’re someone like me. People recognize me in public, even though there are so few pictures of me out there. That’s only the case because I’ve worked so hard at keeping them to a minimum.”

  “So you haven’t dated all this time?” It seemed like such a waste for a man that looked like him not to be with women, although it was hard for me to admit that.

  His smile turned into a grin. “I didn’t say that, exactly. Just haven’t taken a girl out in public like this in awhile.”

  I blushed and hit his shoulder. It felt like a piece of stone. He laughed at me, and the drive flew by as we moved our way through Philly traffic.

  At the restaurant, he was quiet. It was upscale Italian, but intimate and the room was mostly empty. It was only a Tuesday night, and it was after the usual dinner rush, so we had the place more or less to ourselves. There were a few other scattered groups, but nobody I recognized. He ordered a bottle of wine I had never heard of and that wasn’t on the menu.

  “How’d you know to get that?” I asked.

  “Remember, I own this place.”

  I laughed. “Seriously? I thought you were kidding.”

  “Yes, seriously. I think the only person who recognized me is the manager though, and he knows better than to run around telling everyone. Discreet people keep jobs in my employ.”

  I smiled and shook my head with disbelief. I didn’t know he owned any restaurants, but it made sense. He certainly had enough money. He could own half the city for all I knew, and he probably did.

  When the wine came, he held his glass up, and looked me in the eyes.

  “To you and I. And to all the dirty texts you sent me.”

  I laughed. “You mean, to all the dirtier texts you sent me.”

  We clinked glasses, and drank. We chatted idly about our lives, but he looked distracted, and kept glancing toward the door. I told him about my brothers, but didn’t mention Derek’s drug problems, or any details about my mother’s death. I stuck mostly to my dad, his cancer, and my brother John’s successes. Shane didn’t say much about his own family, and spent most of the conversation nodding and asking questions about my story. He was evasive whenever I asked him anything directly, and he steered the conversation toward me whenever possible. When our food arrived, I realized I had spent most of the night talking about myself.

  “This must be really boring,” I said. I took a bite of my fish and it was delicious.

  “This isn’t boring at all,” he said. He ate a bite of his pasta and sipped his wine. He kept looking toward the door.

  “I’d love to hear about your family,” I said.

  “There’s not much to hear.”

  “Come on, what was your dad like?”

  He gave me a serious look. It surprised me, the sudden intensity. “Like I said, there’s not much to say.”

  We started eating in silence. He picked at his food, and drank another glass of wine. There was a tension sitting over the table that I didn’t understand, and I was struggling. Did I offend him by asking a question about his family? I knew he needed privacy, and he had mentioned something about rules. Had I just broken one?

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, finally breaking the tension. “You’ve been distracted all night.”

  He let out a deep sigh. “You’re right. I apologize.”

  “What’s going on?”

  He paused. “I like being near you, I hope you understand that.”<
br />
  I felt my stomach do flips.

  “I like it, too.”

  “It’s just that, I don’t think I can do this.” His face was serious but pleading, and his flint colored eyes looked sad in a way I couldn’t understand.

  I felt my face drop. Was he breaking up with me? I didn’t even realize we were officially together. The knot of self-doubt twisted itself in my chest and I realized he was sick of me already. Too average, not sexy, not fun. He got his taste and didn’t like it enough to stick around.

  “Okay, I get it,” I said quietly, staring down at my food.

  “Wait, you misunderstand.”

  I looked up, surprised. “What do you mean? You’re done with me. I get it.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m being unclear. What I mean is, I can’t do this.” He gestured to the restaurant.

  “You mean, Italian food?” I didn’t know what he meant, and tried a lame joke instead.

  He laughed a little. “No, I mean, being out in public. I know this is going to sound horrible, but I can’t do a public romance. I’m sitting here imagining paparazzi getting a picture of the two of us, and what that might do to your life. I can’t get that image out of my head. You, hounded by cameras, the strain it would put on your life.”

  I could feel the hope coming back inside of me. That made sense, given everything. But more than that, he was talking about us as if we were an item, as if we were together.

  He kept talking. “I have rules which keep me out of the spotlight. This is the life that I chose, for a lot of reasons. But the public life isn’t one you chose, and I won’t ask you to do that.”

  “Shane, I want to keep seeing you.” His face softened as I spoke.

  “I know, and I want that too. I just don’t know how to do this. Sneaking you around won’t be fair, but I can’t risk publicity.”

  What was he hiding that so horrible? I kept thinking that, over and over, as we had this conversation. What secrets made this man?

  “We can figure it out. I understand what you’re saying, and I’m willing to figure out something that works for us,” I said.

  He shook his head sadly. “Maybe we can, or maybe we can’t. But the strain of it will be awful. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “I’m an adult, Shane. I can make my choices. And I’m choosing this.”

  He reached out and took my hand. The electricity between our fingers was still there, and stronger than ever.

  “I know you can,” he said softly.

  “Then let’s get out of here.”

  He shook his head again. “I need to think about this. More importantly, I need you to think about this. Really think about what it would mean to be with me. The sneaking around, and the secrecy. I wouldn’t want you to even tell your family or your friends, at least not for awhile.”

  That would be really hard, I realized. I could be with Shane Green, but I couldn’t tell anyone about it, not even those closest to me. I could feel my doubt nagging at me again, and stayed quiet. It would be the hardest not telling Darcy, but everyone else I could manage pretty easily. Or at least I hoped so.

  “Alright, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home,” he said after a minute of silence went by.

  I nodded and he let go of my hand. He motioned for the waiter, who came and cleared the table, and returned with the check. Shane paid, nodded to the manager, and we left.

  My thoughts were all over as we climbed into his car and the driver headed back toward my apartment. Why is he so obsessed with his privacy? Is he just ashamed of me, or is he seeing other women? I hated that I had these thoughts, and I hated that I felt like I didn’t trust him. But what did I really know about his life, aside from his company, and the few things he told me? I knew mostly about personal interests, favorite books and movies, and a rough sketch of his early years, but almost nothing specific about his family or his friends. I didn’t know where he grew up or what his parents did for a living.

  I did know that he was notoriously private, and that fact existed before he met me. It was possible he really did hate publicity as much as he said he did, and truly meant it when he said he feared the strain that kind of life would put me under. I’d never been remotely famous, or had to deal with any kind of public attention. I’d always been quiet, and floated through school on my own. Darcy was the person closest to me, but before her I had very few friends.

  We rode in the car in silence, but half way back to my apartment, he reached out and took my hand. Our eyes met but we didn’t say anything, and he leaned across the seat to kiss me softly on the mouth. It wasn’t the hungry kiss from the office, but something much sweeter, and caring. His lips were soft against mine, and my body vibrated for him. He pulled away and smiled again, then looked back out the window. I could feel the distance open up between us, but I didn’t understand it. I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but something about the moment told me silence was a better idea.

  We pulled out front of my apartment, and we climbed out of the car together. He walked me to my front door in silence. On the stoop, he wrapped me in his arms, and I pressed myself against his hard, sculpted body.

  “Think about it, Amy,” he said, then kissed me again. This time, we kissed for longer, a bit more of that hunger leaking in between us. I wanted him to take me upstairs and fuck me hard, forget about all of this. I kept my body pressed against him until he broke away.

  “Goodnight,” he said and stepped away.

  “Goodnight, Shane.” He waved, and got back into the car. I turned and unlocked my front door and went inside. When the door closed, his car started to pull away.

  My mind was a mess of conflicting emotions and ideas. I climbed my stairs, went into my apartment, and flopped down on my couch. I wanted to call Darcy and tell her everything, but I couldn’t. And it hit me then, how hard it would be keeping Shane a secret. It would be isolating. Even though I was pretty self-contained, I usually talked most big things through with Darcy. I needed at least that one small outlet. But if Shane and I decided to move forward, I wouldn’t have an outlet for my feelings, I would never be able to discuss it with anyone.

  I scrolled through our shared text messages, unsure of what to do.

  12.

  I didn’t see Shane much for the next few days. We still had to work together on my project, but it was mostly through email and IM. During the two very brief one on one meetings we had, we met in an open office with glass doors, and things were tense but professional between us. We didn’t talk about our relationship.

  After that dinner, I spent all night thinking about him. I read and reread his texts, over and over, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was embarrassed of me. It was the way he was so insistent about not being seen with me in public. Maybe I misinterpreted what he had said, but it was how I felt. I know he said it was for my own protection, but I could make my own decisions. I was an adult now. Plus, why would a man like him, who could have anyone he wanted, break his rules for someone like me?

  It didn’t make any sense. I could feel myself starting to convince myself that he was seeing other women, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. Well, I did know, and I was jealous. But I didn’t own him, and we weren’t exclusive, so what could I do? If he wanted to see other people, and was ashamed of me, then I’d have to back off.

  Despite my reservations, I still looked forward to every conversation, even if it was about work. We had chemistry and neither of us could deny it, which actually made working together easy. He often finished my sentences, and I was predicting what he would want next and doing it before he even had to ask. Tension aside, he was by far the easiest person to work with I had ever met.

  “Been seeing a lot of Mr. Green, haven’t you?” Linda poked her head around our partition and made me jump. I don’t know why I was on edge, and I hadn’t gotten used to the open office vibe yet.

  “Ah, yeah, well, it’s bec
ause I’m a new project.”

  Linda gave me a knowing look. “Yeah, sure. He doesn’t actually give this much attention to new hires, you know. A meeting here and there, that’s usually it.”

  That made me pause. Was it true? “He told me he does this for every new person.”

  Linda made a face. “Well, he does. Sortof. He usually checks in once a week. You two are meeting almost every day.”

  It was a little strange that he wanted to devote so much time to such a small part of his company. I was the only person working on and developing my app so far, and in the grand scheme of things it was almost nothing. And yet he never acted like it was something strange. There was a tension between us, but he kept everything strictly professional, at least ever since our date. He was commanding and serious, but never strayed into inappropriate territory, no matter how much I wanted him to.

  I gave Linda a shrug. “I guess he really believes in the app.”

  “Could be it. Or maybe he just really believes in you.”

  “Oh stop. I’m just a small part of his company, programming away.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Amy. You’re a catch. I could see him being into you.”

  “Really? You actually think that?” I realized I sounded too eager.

  “Oh somebody’s interested.” Linda laughed. “You are cute, but who knows what his type is. He could be into mutant frogs for all I know.”

  I laughed. “I doubt it’s mutant frogs. Maybe flying squirrels.”

  Linda grinned. “That’s the spirit. Trying to guess Mr. Green’s sexual habits is something of a game for us ladies of the office.”

  “Seems like a pretty fun game to me.” Although, I had an unfair advantage stored in my phone’s text messages.