Nursing Myself Back

by Kara Liane

  I lie there practically passed out on my bed. I’m spent. I don’t know how that’s possible when the deed was done by my own hand, yet I know why, and that it is, in fact, possible. Caleb is a talented man, and he doesn’t even have to physically be here. The fact that he even walks the earth is enough to shoot beams of horniness to parts of me I didn’t even know I could experience.

  Surely, Caleb will be the most generous lover. I know that if he gave me a chance for even one night of passion, it would be glorious, like the linking of two souls. I’m a little rusty in that department, but it’s like riding a bike—I don’t even think I’ll need the training wheels.

  Am I really trying to convince myself that I have a chance with him? Or really the question should be, am I going to try to make a move on Caleb?

  Yes, I guess I am—yes to both questions.

  I’m a grown woman and can do what I want. Wow, I didn’t even cringe that time when I thought about how much of a grown woman I am. Maybe this whole thing will work, and I’ll be able to accept that I’m older and that it’s no big deal.

  My heart finally calms, and I close my eyes and breathe deeply. It feels so good to take control of my life and have a clear direction to head. Caleb gave me his number last night, and I’m so tempted to use it. I told myself I’d only reach out to him if I was desperate and needed help with something. Now…well, now I’m desperate for something, and it’s a project of a delicate nature.

  I actually have the blackout curtains pulled back for once, and light is streaming in and warms me. I can clearly see the owls all around the room, and my space seems more lively and vibrant. I changed my sheets and comforter last night to a cheery patterned white set. I realize the white represents purity and innocence, but to me it also represents a new beginning of sorts.

  “Caleb can be my new beginning,” I say aloud.

  I open my eyes and turn my head to look at my phone sitting on the nightstand. I’m going to pick it up and text him. I’m too chickenshit to call, even with my newfound bravery. I reach for it, and as I pull my arm back to look at the screen, I hear it chime as it vibrates against my skin to indicate I have an incoming message.

  I look at the screen, and the biggest grin crosses my face. It’s a text from the man himself. Now I have to think of a flirtatious reply. He mentioned my cookies; well, I’ll let him take a bite!

  Chapter 8: You Forgot the “R”

  Caleb

  Hot damn! Her reply came fast. I wasn’t expecting that, but it’s the most welcome thing knowing she’s holding the phone at the same time. Is that some corny shit or what?

  The kids don’t come home until tonight. I promised them some MT. That means mom time, LOL. Raincheck for the kids, but I’m available this afternoon if we can do it then? And you can taste my cookies anytime you’d like ;)

  M. O. T. H. E. R. F. U. C. K. E. R!

  If she’s teasing me, well, she truly is the queen of it. My balls tighten up painfully at the thought of tasting anything on her. My dick is twitching so much in my pants, it’s probably wagging like a damn dog’s tail. I close my eyes to take a minute to collect myself.

  I love that she’s flirting. This is what I needed to know. There were those few times last night I thought there could be something, so this confirms it. I’m looking forward to being alone with her again, but of course it would have been fun with the kids. I hope there are plenty of opportunities in the future for a more family-oriented visit.

  I realize I haven’t responded. I scold myself by doing an internal tongue-lashing for being an idiot in keeping her waiting. My fingers move across the screen, but my hands are sweaty, making the damn screen protector even more slippery. I high-five myself as I hit send for being such a smooth operator.

  Whatever flavor you give me, I’ll try. Look forward to seeing you. Noon work? I’ll make lunch. I know my place can be a pain to get to given the traffic. Pick you up, or you want to drive here?

  I’m hoping she’ll want me to pick her up, but I also want to present her with an easy out in case it’s a comfort thing to come on her own. I see the dots moving on the screen, so I know she’s writing something.

  I’ll come there if you don’t mind. I’m used to driving in city traffic, silly. Remember, Alexi didn’t always have his own practice, LOL.

  Ah, yes, she got me there. She’s probably just as familiar with the ins and outs of Philadelphia as I am.

  How easily I forget, that’s not like me. Something must have bewitched me. Think there’s a cure for that? My address is 25801 Marketing Street, 14th floor, Apt. 2. I have a guest parking spot in basement, No. 36. Drive safe, Betty Cocker!

  I’m waiting to see if she says anything else, and while I’m waiting, I reread my text. Oh shit! I forgot an “r,” didn’t I? Yeah, some smooth operator I am. I feel like a jackass, and that wasn’t any type of Freudian slip of the fingers. I’m really worried I crossed a line when she doesn’t immediately reply. But finally it arrives.

  She uses the laughing emoji and the letters “LOL.” I blow out a grateful breath and realize she took it the best way. I don’t deserve her.

  Is it possible to fall more in love with someone over a text?

  Lunch can’t come soon enough. I have to figure out something quick and simple to make. It’s only nine o’clock, so I still have time to run somewhere; yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Three hours till show time!

  ***

  Liezel

  When I arrive, I can’t help but admire the building. I love how the glass on the outside glistens in the sun; you wouldn’t think it’s such a chilly day out. I’m nervous as hell as I head into the basement and park my car in spot thirty-six like he instructed.

  I’m trying not to focus too hard on the source of my nerves. I get out of my car and head toward the elevators to go up to the lobby. Upon arrival, the doorman gives me a friendly greeting. The man has a kind, warm face with trusting eyes, and I relax marginally. Clearly, he’s expecting me as he directs me to the next bank of elevators to go up to the fourteenth floor to Caleb’s apartment.

  As I’m ascending, I’m once again thinking about how it’s such a lovely building I’m in—I’m employing a distraction tactic, of course. Even though I’ve driven in the area plenty of times on my way to the University Hospital of South Philadelphia when I worked there with Alexi, I never really noticed this high-rise structure.

  I clutch the strap to my shoulder bag more tightly as I become nervous again. When I masturbated a few hours ago, I was revved up and ready to go make my move on him. Now that I’m so close to making that final lap, it’s intimidating. Thinking about doing something and actually doing it are two entirely different things.

  The elevator chime sounds, and I walk out. I take two steps and freeze. I fidget and pull at my jacket, trying to decide if what I’m wearing is attractive enough. I smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles on my shirt. I purposely left my hair down to give a different look today. I run my fingers through it. I don’t need it as a shield—well, maybe he’ll need it as a shield from me. I so want to attack him on sight, but I’ll restrain myself…are you tired yet of the back and forth with my emotions? Yeah, me too.

  I’m wearing my favorite pair of dark-washed skinny jeans. I feel sexy in them, and they make my ass look fabulous. I have on my adorable brown ankle boots that have a cute design with studs on the strap that run up the sides. I’m also sporting a cotton V-neck long-sleeved top. It’s a nice royal blue shade that brings out my eyes.

  My black pea coat gives me a sophisticated edge, I think, but I still believe I look youthful. I’m wearing a white infinity scarf decked out with brightly-colored cartoonish owls—okay, I realize I’m probably going into the category of too youthful on this one, but I love scarves, and ya know I love my owls. I borrowed this one from Leah. I’m lucky she’s my buddy and doesn’t mind sharing, and I gladly reciprocate with my wardrobe.

  I decide it’s now or never, so I make my body move—I like to be promp
t. As I round the corner to his apartment door, I glance at the silver watch on my left wrist and realize it’s noon on the dot. I shake out my remaining jitters and rap three times on the door in quick succession. I’m telling my heart to stop pounding, but it has a mind of its own—surely Caleb can hear it on the other side of the door.

  I pick up on movement as locks are turning, and then the handle jangles. He wrenches the door open with—dare I say—enthusiasm. At first, I look down at the floor, then slowly work my way up his figure until I get to his gorgeous face. My skin immediately heats, and I’m going to sweat through my jacket if I don’t take it off soon. He isn’t wearing shoes, and his white socks suggest he’s comfortable and inviting. I sigh with relief. The sock thing is adorable. But now I’m worrying this is a friend-thing and not a potential passion-thing.

  Stop it, I scold myself.

  His text was flirty, so I’m going to roll with it. He’s donning a pair of jeans too, but his look well-worn and loose-fitting—they must be his favorite pair. The last piece of clothing is a black fitted T-shirt, which stretches nicely across his broad chest and shows off his muscular arms. Yup, getting really hot in here. But the final element that completes the look is his glasses. I had no idea he wore glasses…and, oh my God, yum!

  Ladies, this man can wear glasses. It’s like seeing Clark Kent, but somehow Clark is hotter than the man with the big “S” on his costume. However, there’s a letter Caleb should wear, and it would be “C”—surely you realize the big “C” doesn’t stand for Caleb, ha ha.

  He’s grinning ear to ear, and I’m about to melt on the floor before I even make it inside. I clear my throat and start pulling at my jacket.

  “Liz, you look stunning,” he says in a rush. Then he continues, “Please come in. Let me take your coat.”

  “Thank you,” I say as I slip my jacket off and hand it to him.

  He hangs it up on the wall hook. I set my purse down on his entryway table as he closes the door. Then, I unwind the scarf from around my neck and set that down with my purse as well. I hear him chuckle at the sight of the owls. Finally, I hike up my sleeves to make them three-quarter length, giving more skin a chance to breathe.

  “Are you comfortable?” He asks, genuinely bemused by my flustered state.

  “Oh, yes, sorry. I’m fine, thanks. Just a little warm. Your building is phenomenal. I love the architecture. Mind if I take my shoes off? If you’re going shoeless, then I suppose it’s only fair,” I giggle.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Take off whatever you need to,” he says with a scorching gaze.

  Now I’m completely aroused. How does he do that? I don’t know how he manages to drench my panties in a split second. I’ve never seen anything like it, and he’s not even freaking trying!

  I unzip my boots and pull them off, then place them under the table by my purse. He gestures for me to have a seat on his couch. I sit while he stands. I love his place. He has the perfect city view, and the entire wall of windows is the kind of glass that’s tinted so you don’t need curtains. It appears he has bamboo flooring, and the gray couches with blue accent pillows are such a nice contrast. The walls are white, which I love, because everything looks clean and fresh and so open.

  “Wow, I love your apartment,” I gush in wonderment as I look left and right and marvel at the area.

  “Well, let me give you the grand tour,” he says cheekily.

  I pop up from my seat and dutifully follow him around for a thorough tour. I even saw his bedroom—I didn’t show him mine, so I was surprised when he showed me his. I couldn’t get over the painting in his bedroom. That seascape is to die for.

  I wish I could be there with Caleb inside that painting, I remark only to myself.

  He catches me staring at it. After a few minutes, we move on to the rest of the rooms. Once we’re done with the tour, we end up in the kitchen, and I sit down at his breakfast bar.

  “So, can I help with anything?” I ask sweetly as he makes his way over to the stove.

  “No, thanks. You just sit your gorgeous self down and relax, and let me take care of everything. The food’s actually done; I was just keeping it warm,” he explains.

  He offers me a beverage, but I decline for now, opting to wait until we’re ready to eat. I glance over at the crock pot sitting to the side of the stove and wonder what he made.

  “I take it you made something in the cock pot?” I ask.

  And then I’m sure a look of terror and humiliation crosses my face as he stands there open-mouthed at my question.

  Oh my freaking God!

  I did it again with misspeaking. I forgot the dang “r.” You would think that with him doing that earlier in his text, I could have avoided that potential pitfall. He shows me mercy and starts laughing so hard. I burst out laughing too, and for the second time I’ve laughed harder in two days than I’ve done in years.

  This friendship and attraction are becoming addictive too quickly. It’s no secret that I desire him, but I’m enjoying being with him as a friend. It’s unbelievable to have both things with someone. This man is so magnificent, and I can’t keep saying it enough. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m falling for him.

  That’s absolutely ridiculous, and absurd, and unheard of to have developed feelings so soon, I remind myself.

  Plus, let’s not forget the fact I recently stuffed my husband’s ashes in the closet. Ugh, now my laughter has left me. Anytime I think of William, I’m immediately brought down; he still haunts me and rules my mood somehow, even from his resting place.

  Caleb takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes since his lashes are coated in tears from laughing so hard. Then, he examines his glasses with a shocked look.

  “What’s wrong?” I question, thinking there has to be something to cause him visible distress.

  “I can’t believe I’m still wearing my glasses. I never leave them on. No one ever sees me in them. Clearly you’re special, Liz Carter. And evidently I’m very distracted these days,” he admits more to himself than to me.

  My breath hitches at his words. He puts his hands on the counter of his kitchen island and stares at me, as I’m sitting across the way at his breakfast bar. We hold each other’s gazes in an electric storm. You can practically see the currents moving back and forth between us. I don’t say or move for fear of being zapped.

  He breaks it first by shaking his head as if to snap out of it, then turns back to the stove to tend to his cooking. I bite my lower lip, wishing he’d walk over to me and attack me already.

  God, I want him to throw me down on the counter, or the floor, or anywhere—pick a damn surface!

  I need him. But the moment has passed us by. It’s okay, though. I guess I can always make the first move—I don’t do it right now, but maybe I can work up to it later.

  “Touché by the way on the ‘cock pot’ comment. You’re too much, you know that?” He conveys in an amused tone while arching a well-groomed, although manly, brow.

  “I didn’t mean to say it. It just came out,” I plead.

  “Sure it did,” he replies with a wink.

  A wink, I got another wink from him—that’s like his third! I could never pull off a wink, but this guy right here can pull off anything. I hike up my sleeves a little more—this damn thing will be a tank top soon enough at this rate. How did I think I could survive him? I can’t even make it through the first fifteen minutes of being here.

  As he sets out silverware and the plates for our meal, I still can’t believe I’m at his place—in socks, no less, just hanging out. I also can’t believe he’s never worn glasses in front of anyone before. He’s so foxy in them that he should never be ashamed to wear those bad boys. Better yet, I hope he doesn’t show anyone else because I love that I’m the only one. It’s idiotic that such a small thing makes me feel special, but it does. I especially don’t want any other woman to see him like this.

  We eat our meal, chatting and laughing away in his kitch
en. We both chose water to drink, and he served us salad, grilled chicken with mixed vegetables, and quinoa—he remembered my quinoa! I appreciate that this is a delicious, healthy meal. I would have eaten it anyway to be polite, but obviously he takes care of his body like I do. So, it’s yet another thing we have in common and can both respect about one another.

  We finish our meal, and I help him tidy up. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time, and I give him side-eye every now and then. I’m trying not to be too transparent about it. It feels so good to do the flirting thing since it’s been ages for me. I thought I’d be terrible, but it turns out I’m pretty good at it.

  We head over to his couch and plop down. We’re at opposite ends, and I cross my legs, sitting primly. He throws his legs up on the couch which he stretches out near me in challenge. I wasn’t expecting things to be so laidback like this. I return the challenge and mimic his position. I’m way too comfortable now, but I suppose that’s the idea.

  He smirks and says, “Now that’s more like it.”

  I flex my legs and feet, and it does feel damn good to stretch out. I don’t always get to do this because I’m up and down getting stuff for the kids, or at work, or doing things around the house. This is nice, and so very much needed.

  He lifts up my left foot and starts massaging it. At first I’m startled, but he playfully pinches my big toe in an effort to tell me, “Don’t protest and just enjoy.” I acquiesce to his powerful, manly hands, letting him do as he pleases.

  Holy crap! It feels unbelievable. He has an incredible kneading technique and expertly exerts the right amount of pressure and tenderness to the right spots—what a talent! I’m moaning loudly, and I don’t care. After a few minutes, he puts my foot down and switches to the other one. It starts all over again, resulting in more moaning, and I’m not embarrassed because it feels too damn good. I close my eyes and let every sensation seep into my body. He is taking such good care of me. I didn’t even have to ask him; he’s doing it on his own. I want to cry because it’s hard to accept that this beautiful man is being the way he is with me.