by T Gephart
I was still reveling in my good mood when a fragment of a memory snapped into focus as I pulled on my underwear. The lower half of my body feeling a tingle I usually associated with a night well spent.
No.
No, please tell me I didn’t.
I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my cell, my finger scrolling to access the call register before I confirmed what I already knew.
There at the top of the list was the name Dave Larsson, the call made a whole hour after I’d sent the email.
Okay, no need to panic. I didn’t necessarily know what we’d spoken about, I could have simply asked if he’d received the email, and to clarify if it was Belgium waffles or buttermilk waffles that were his favorite breakfast food. Or I could have potentially babbled for thirty-five minutes and fifty-six seconds to his voicemail, I mean anything was possible.
Although, you’d have thought it would have cut off before then.
Shit, this wasn’t looking good.
Maybe the sexy thoughts that flashed through my memory were part of a dream I’d had later. Like after we’d hung up. That made sense. I’d once dreamt I’d had sex with Jason Momoa and that hadn’t happened. It was totally plausible that I hadn’t asked Dave Larsson to say naughty things to me while I touched myself and orgasmed in his ear.
Dear. God.
Damn that fucking Shiraz.
The phone that was still in my hand lit up with an incoming call, and thankfully it was just from the office. It was easier to deal with my boss rather than the man that I might have—or might not have, we couldn’t be sure—had phone sex with last night.
“Hey, Jeremy, sorry, I woke up with a headache and am running a little late.” I didn’t bother saying hello, knowing exactly why he was calling. “I’ll make up the time.”
He laughed, his voice missing the anger or impatience I was expecting. “Relax, it’s Dave. I’m sitting at your desk. I figured if you saw this number, you’d definitely pick up.”
Oh God, my feelings of relief vanished as I tried not to hyperventilate.
“Hey, Dave.” I tried to sound normal, grabbing clothes out of my closet as I attempted to dress with one hand. Clearly I couldn’t be trusted around him naked, and I didn’t want to risk asking for a repeat of whatever happened last night that I couldn’t remember. “What are you doing at the agency? I didn’t think we had a meeting scheduled.”
The question was rhetorical because I knew for a fact there was no meeting. And Jeremy didn’t know how to set things up in his calendar which meant he didn’t set it either.
“There wasn’t a meeting scheduled. But apparently you left a script on Jeremy’s desk yesterday for a role I’d be perfect for. It’s not a lead, but a major supporting role for a big budget feature. It’s good, Jess. It is really good.”
The feelings of really good were felt on both sides of the call. Happy for him that Jeremy listened to me and called him, and happy for me we were avoiding last night’s shenanigans. Maybe it had just been a dream; just me, my hand and no one else whispering dirty things in my ear.
I offered up silent thank yous to the heavens as I buttoned up my blouse and zipped up my skirt. Getting dressed one-handed was tough, but I’d managed it. And just like that, no longer being naked was something else to be thankful for.
“That’s great.” My excitement genuine as I continued giving unspoken gratitude. “I didn’t think he’d had time to read it, let alone call you. And the role really is perfect for you, the script has been on my desk for a week.”
“Yeah, it is great. Except he didn’t call me. You did.”
Say what?
“I’m sorry, what?” I checked the date, making sure I had only slept in and not skipped a whole day.
I had zero recollection of making a call about the script. I had barely spoken to Jeremy about it, with a bright pink Post-It sitting on my computer monitor reminding myself to harass him about it today.
“Last night, you called me.”
And there it was. All my feelings of gratitude were shelved as the call that I’d hoped we’d avoided suddenly was thrust into the spotlight. So not only had I touched myself while breathing heavily over the phone—well done, Jess—but I’d also discussed a script that my boss hadn’t properly vetted.
Brilliant.
“Funny thing about that call.” I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling the blood drain from my face. “I was drinking and Jeremy should have called you about that role. It was unprofessional of me, and I’m really sorry.” Not to mention inappropriate.
I wasn’t sure if I was glad I couldn’t remember the details—saving myself the embarrassment—or annoyed I didn’t have the conversation tucked away for private enjoyment later. Clearly it had been pretty outstanding for me, my body still buzzing from last night’s sextivities, not sure how it rated for him.
“Fuck professionalism, you were awesome and I was incredibly glad you called.”
Well, that confused me.
It wasn’t the first time I’d had phone sex. Sure, it wasn’t my favorite thing to do, preferring to be with a man in the flesh than heavy breathing through a phone. But I wasn’t adverse to assisted self-love with the right person. But usually the person on the other end of the line had at least seen me naked, and wasn’t someone I had to see at work because that would be kind of awkward. And as wonderful as I liked to imagine myself to be, I’d never been told I was incredible. Was it possible for a man as sexy as Dave Larsson to have been having subpar sex?
I closed my eyes, hoping the darkness would help me focus better, but sadly it didn’t.
“You still with me?” he asked when I didn’t respond. I had been too busy wondering if I was a goddess in the sack or he had been subjected to really unfortunate lovers.
“Yes, I’m here.” I rubbed my temples, the headache that had started to fade making a reappearance. “The phone call is a little fuzzy, want to refresh my memory a little?”
He laughed, not sounding surprised. “After you emailed, you called and begged me not to read it.”
“Okay.” I held my breath, waiting for him to continue.
“Then you mumbled stuff which I really didn’t understand, and told me that if I didn’t read it you would return my kindness by tipping me off about the part.”
Oh thank you, God.
While I had probably still sounded like a raving lunatic, at least I hadn’t asked him to talk dirty to me while I touched myself. Sad that I needed to make the distinction, but there I was, making it nonetheless.
“Yeah, I probably had a little too much to drink.” There was an understatement. “Thanks for not reading the email, it probably made zero sense. I’ll send you a replacement later today.”
I totally ignored that part about mumbling because clearly it wasn’t important. And as for the phone sex, it had obviously been one-sided using my active imagination. And I was completely okay with that. In fact, I was better than okay, I was fucking elated.
My eyes rose to the heavens, my thanks to Virgin Mary offered up in gratitude.
All in all, I was pretty pleased with myself. I assumed any pleasure I’d given myself last night had either been before or after the call. Yes, I probably shouldn’t have drunk dialed Dave and made a fool of myself, but there were worse things in the world. And if I wasn’t so thankful that the only thing I was guilty of was sounding like a lush, I might have been embarrassed.
“Errr . . . Jess.” It sounded like he was trying to suppress a laugh. “You called an hour after you sent the email. I had already read it.”
No.
No.
No.
“I thought you said . . .” I replayed the conversation, and realized that he’d only mentioned what my side of the exchange had been, and not his.
“Trying to tell you I’d already read it was like trying to nail Jell-O to the wall. I’ve spoken to telemarketers that were less insistent. If you ever decide to give up your job with Jeremy, Verizon will hire you in a h
eartbeat.” He chuckled, finding humor in my stupidity. “It was only after you’d told me about the part that I was able to get a word in edgeways. And when I came in this morning and I didn’t see you, I assumed you were pissed off that you’d told me even though I’d read it. I had a whole elaborate apology planned. It was epic, I’m kind of bummed you missed it.”
I didn’t answer, heavy breathing on the phone like I assumed I had last night. Well, at least I was consistent.
My lack of response prompted him to continue. “But when Jeremy asked me what I was doing at the office, I figured I had nothing to lose so asked him about the script. We went over it together, and he got me an audition.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it again, my brain unable to formulate exactly what I needed to say.
“Jess?”
“Hmmm?” It was the best I could do, offering him only syllables while I died of mortification. And I still hadn’t read the email, unsure how bad it was with my imagination not doing me any favors.
“I know it was information you hadn’t meant to share, but I swear on my life I tried to stop you.”
I wasn’t sure what was worse, him feeling bad or me not remembering. And for God’s sake, what the hell had I said? “Um . . . so the email.” My throat tightened as I tried to swallow.
His voice lowered, vibrating against my ear. “It was actually kind of hot. Made for fascinating reading. I have a few questions though so I’ll call you later. So much we need to explore. See you, Jess.”
And before I’d had a chance to say goodbye, the line went dead.
“Fuck,” I cursed, tossing the phone on my bed as I straightened my skirt and blouse.
It had been fascinating reading? What the hell had I’d written? I grabbed my phone trying to not hyperventilate. Ha, good luck with that.
Last time I checked, I didn’t possess super powers to spew out literary brilliance. It would have been easier if I’d just had phone sex with him, my finger hovered as I opened the sent message addressed to Dave.
Shit.
My heart slammed against my chest as I scrolled through the contents, speed-reading through the paragraphs.
It started innocent enough—birth date, education history, detailed reports of members of my family. That had been before I’d partaken in the Devil’s drink, typed out earlier in the day when I still had some sense—or sobriety—either would do. But then it turned into something else, like I had been possessed by a demon, the powers of the Shiraz compelling me.
I’d taken his suggestion of favorite sexual position and run with it. It got dirtier and more personal as I went on. My sexual chronicles of the past were only less mortifying than my aspirations for the future. Because admitting you lost your virginity on prom night was fine as long as you didn’t follow that up with your fantasy of smothering yourself in chocolate sauce and having a threesome with Ragnar and Rollo from Vikings. Who knew The History Channel would be so goddamn sexy? Still, not something I needed to broadcast to a MAN I BARELY KNEW.
It was okay, I tried to rationalize. It would all be fine. I would just merely admit that I was bored and had a little fun with it. And possibly I’d taken it too far but that none of it was true. I mean, some of it was true, but not all the crazy stuff. That stuff was most definitely not true.
I contemplated picking up the phone and telling Dave the whole thing was off. He’d already got his audition for a more suitable part like he wanted, so he probably didn’t even have the time for my nonsense anyway. And if I thought it would save me the embarrassment of seeing him, I’d have probably done just that. Worked out some other solution to my date problem. Screw it, I hadn’t even tried Tinder yet. Even a trained monkey could swipe right.
But unfortunately, I would be seeing him regardless, probably more so if he got the part.
Fine.
It would all be fine.
I was onto my second pep talk and still wasn’t convinced. But I was out of ideas, running late and needed to get to work.
Fine.
It would be fine.
Nope, the third time didn’t help either.
JEREMY WAS ANNOYED I’D BEEN late until I dropped a latte and croissant from his favorite bakery on his desk and told him I’d been busy picking up scripts. It wasn’t unusual for me to swing past a studio on the way to work, and I had done it on numerous occasions.
This time it had been a lie of course, with the scripts having been delivered yesterday afternoon and I just hadn’t gotten around to reading them yet. But it was either tell him the lie, or setting a fire and having the place evacuated.
Sadly, that’s what it had come to.
Katrina, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be buying it. She waved off my offer of coffee, coming at me like a heat-seeking missile the minute I’d sat down.
“He was back. And oh my God did he look good today.” She fanned herself for effect. “He even asked me where you were, the two of us having a twenty-minute conversation while he waited for Jeremy. Can you believe it? He is so fucking fine I thought I was going to pass out.”
My lips edged into a bogus smile as I faked ignorance. “Who are we talking about?”
“Dave Larsson.” Her hand softly slapped me across the arm. “That is twice in one week, I think I might be in love with him.” She sighed, her attention switching to whatever fantasy she had in her head rather than to me.
I pretended to be busy, looking uninterested as I turned on my computer. “That’s great, Katrina. I’m so glad you guys got to chat.”
Apparently my response wasn’t as excited as she’d hoped, prompting her to yank on the back of my chair and spin me around. “I asked him out, Jess.”
Well, now she had my attention. “Ohhhh.” I meant to tack on a suitable adjective but didn’t get the chance; the surprise stunning me into silence.
“He said yes.” She danced excitedly in place, her face beaming. “I’m still in shock.”
She wasn’t the only one.
I wondered if it was too late to go back to my other option this morning and set fire to the office? It seemed I’d been jumping from one metaphoric fire to the next in the last few days, so maybe a real one might help. I’d throw in some white sage and smudge the place while I was at it, hoping to exorcise the evil spirits that had suddenly cursed my freaking awesome life.
“That’s . . .” I paused, swallowing my first instinct which was to just string a bunch of swear words together. “Great. Really great. So Great.”
It was so not great.
She spun around, feeling all the joy I wasn’t. “I know.” The celebration paused for a second as she focused on me. “But I have one tiny little favor I need to ask.”
“What is it?”
“You have to come too.”
Huh?
When I assumed things couldn’t get any worse this morning, I had been sadly mistaken. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked on the slim chance I’d misheard.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” She shook her head, her eyes trying to convey an apology I didn’t believe for a second. “But he didn’t say yes right away so I panicked and told him it was a group thing. And we have that party to go to tomorrow anyway, so I figured we’d just have dinner before. You know, give me a fighting chance to wow him before we are around a crowd. When I told him you were coming, he agreed.”
My eyes rose to the ceiling, wondering if I was being punished. There was no other explanation why the situation was going from bad to worse. We hadn’t even gotten to Louisiana yet and I was all ready neck deep in sinful deceit. At this rate, I was going to spontaneously ignite the minute I got anywhere near a preacher.
“Katrina, as much as I would love to be the third wheel on your,” I waved my hand at her, “attempt to wow him. But don’t you think it’s going to look suspicious when it’s just me and you?” Because I assumed the man wasn’t blind and would smell a set up. Oh, and sitting across the table from him and trying to eat dinner after email-gate sounded l
ike a good time as well.
She threw her head back and laughed, her eyes widening as she gripped my arm like she already had a plan. “Well yeah, of course if it was just the two of us. But I figured we could invite Liz, and surely we could ask some of the guys from the office. Matt from accounting will say yes in a heartbeat, and he has lots of friends.”
“Katrina.” Her name was huffed out in exasperation. “I swear, you drive a woman to drink.” And considering my liver had yet to recover from last night’s escapade, things were pretty dire if I was considering returning to the Devil’s elixir.
“But you love me, right?” She batted her eyes, feigning innocence. “And because you love me, you’ll come.”
There were a lot of things I wouldn’t do, and being coerced into accepting invitations sat rather high on that list. And yet, in the last few days I had bent twice, both times because I cared about the person making the request.
Damn being nice.
“Fine, I’ll come,” I agreed, shaking my head at my stupidity. “But you’re making the dinner reservations and inviting everyone else. I am not asking people to be part of your charade, especially not Matt from accounting or any of his friends.” I already had a bucket load of my own deceit; I didn’t need to be borrowing anyone else’s.
She threw her arms around me, her gratitude and excitement manifesting itself into a hug. “You are the best friend ever. And I will totally take care of everything; I will even organize a car.”
Well, not driving meant I could drink, so at least this potential disaster had that going for it. Okay, so I wasn’t giving up alcohol; that had been a stupid idea and one that was shelved for the foreseeable feature. Maybe I should steer clear of red wine though, that could be the compromise.
Now I just had to get through the day and most of tomorrow and prepare myself for a group “date” with Dave. Seriously, it was too late to hire a gigolo, right?
I am never going to lie again.
I managed to survive the day despite rocking a slight hangover and a truckload of last-night’s regret. Thankfully it had been busy so I was able to make it through without thinking too much about my impending night out.