Confession: it was mostly for Charlie.
I had no idea if he would wear something nice or show up in his usual jeans and sweaters, and another good thing about not being his girlfriend or even his date was that I didn’t even have to care. We could both wear what we wanted to and be happy about it.
But I took too long to get ready, and traffic was bad getting downtown because of an accident. Parking was madness, and I paid twenty bucks to park in a lot a little closer, because it was going on quarter to eight. Before getting out of the car, I texted Charlie. What I meant to say was, Just parked. I’ll be there shortly. But because my fingers were jittery and I was in a rush, what I sent him was, Just parked. I’ll be there shirtless.
I hit Send just as I realized what Auto Correct had done to me. “Shit!” I flailed, dropping my phone into my lap. But I didn’t have time to text him again, so I scooped up my phone and took off. The sidewalks were wet and slippery, making walking in heels difficult. But I went as fast as I could, holding my wool dress coat closed as my heels clicked quickly on the cement. I hadn’t even taken the time to button it. My phone buzzed and I glanced at it.
Awesome. I’m not wearing pants.
I smiled and moved a little faster, surprised at how excited I was to see him. I shivered, although the temperature had warmed up slightly. My legs were cold, though, because I hadn’t worn stockings, and when I looked down I was dismayed to see how ghostly white they were beneath my dark coat. Frowning at my feet, I noticed how much darker my “nude” shoes were than my skin color. Why do they call it nude, anyway? It’s not my nude.
“Erin.”
Surprised when I heard Charlie say my name, I looked up but didn’t see him. Turning around, I scanned the crowd pushing toward the glass doors into the theater but still couldn’t find him.
“Hey. I’m right here.” A hand grasped my elbow.
I turned, and my jaw dropped. Charlie in a police officer’s uniform was hot, but Charlie in a suit and tie was downright scorching. He was always handsome, even in casual clothing, but I felt feverish seeing him dressed up. It wasn’t flashy either, just a simple gray two-button suit, worn with a white shirt and solid navy tie. He wore no overcoat, which let me appreciate the little details more—the way the jacket hugged his broad shoulders and slim torso, the way the cuffs of his white shirt peeked out from the sleeves, the white sliver of his pocket square. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“You look beautiful.” He kissed my cheek. “Even if you are wearing a top.”
“Thank you. You look…different.” I was having a hard time recovering my senses.
He smiled, those blue eyes lighting up. “You didn’t think I knew how to dress up?”
I grinned sheepishly. “Maybe. I don’t know. Anyway, you look great. I’m glad you’re wearing pants. I meant shortly, by the way. Not shirtless.”
“I knew what you meant.” He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Any chance I can talk you into a hotel room instead of a ballet? There’s a nice one right around the corner. We can both go shirtless.”
My belly flipped, and for a second, I almost said fuck yes, let’s go and took off running. But I wanted to enjoy him in that suit a while before I got him out of it. “No. You promised.”
He sighed, straightening up. “OK, then. Let’s do it.” Taking my arm, he led me to the doors and held one open for me. I picked up the tickets at Will Call, and we headed into the lobby. It was there I noticed how many people seemed to be staring at us. It was so blatant that I began to feel self-conscious, patting my hair, adjusting my dress, running my tongue over my teeth to make sure I didn’t have lipstick on them.
“Quit fidgeting. You’re like a kid.”
“I can’t help it. People are staring at me.”
“They’re staring at me, not you.”
I slapped him on the arm.
“What do you expect?” He laughed, elbowing me gently as we made our way down the aisle to our seats. “You’re that kind of beautiful, Erin. You turn heads. Stop conversations.”
My heart trilled happily, but I rolled my eyes. “Stop it.”
“No, really. You should be glad. One day soon it’ll all be over. You’ll be a dowdy hausfrau with a dozen rugrats hanging off your ruined figure. So enjoy it while you can, huh?” He looked at me with eyebrows raised.
“Oh my God. You’re such an asshole.”
“You love me.” We’d reached our row, and he stepped aside to let me in first.
“I don’t. I really don’t,” I told him, sidestepping past a few people already seated. “I can’t even believe I’m taking you to the ballet, something beautiful and meaningful to me.” I sat down and he sank into the seat next to me. “You’ll probably just make fun of it the whole time.”
“I won’t, I swear. There’s probably a no-talking rule during the show anyway.” He looked around. “Although there’s a lot of kids here. Are they really going to be quiet the whole time?”
“Yes, and you are too.”
He leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Can I at least make buttcracker jokes?”
“No. My brother exhausted all those going to my performances when we were younger.”
The lights dimmed then, and a voice came over the speaker reminding us not to talk, take photos, or use cell phones during the performance.
Charlie did well with the rules at first, but after a while he started to lean over and whisper at particular moments. When the Prince appeared, he said, “Where can I get a pair of tight pants like that? I think they’d look good on me.”
When the female dancer performing the Arabian Coffee dance exhibited her supple back and gorgeous extension, he said, “So are you that flexible? Because that move could be useful.”
During the Waltz of the Flowers, he said, “Don’t they feed girls in Russia? Why are they all so skinny?”
But he never once yawned, took out his phone, or asked how much longer, and when my favorite piece of music came on and I sat up taller in my seat, Charlie glanced over at me and took my hand.
“So?” I asked as he followed me up the aisle after the curtain call. “Was it torture?”
“Not at all. Thank you for taking me. Actually, it was very entertaining.”
“I’m so glad. Because Swan Lake is coming this spring, you know.”
He put his hand on my hip and squeezed. “I can hardly wait. I hope you’re just as excited by the Wings game we’re going to next week.”
I giggled. “Ballet and hockey. Our non-dates are so eclectic.”
“They are indeed. So what do you think? Want to grab a drink?”
We entered the soaring, ornate lobby where the crowd milled more slowly. “Sure. I have an idea. Have you ever been to Cliff Bell’s? It’s right nearby here, and—”
“Hold on one sec. Is that girl lost?” Charlie was looking over my shoulder, and when I turned I saw a little girl, maybe five or six, looking tearful and worried over by the wall.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can go ask.”
But Charlie was already moving toward her. When he reached her side, he bent down to speak at her eye level. “Hi there. My name is Charlie, and I’m a police officer. Are you lost?”
She nodded, perhaps too frightened to speak.
I leaned over Charlie’s shoulder and noticed her meticulously formed bun and the little ballerina charm necklace she wore. “I bet you take ballet.” She nodded again, her huge blue eyes shiny. “Are you here with your mom?”
She shook her head. “My dad.” Her voice was as tiny as the hands she’d curled into a ball at her tummy. “I had to go to the bathroom and he said he’d wait by the wall, but I can’t find him.”
“Which wall, honey? This one?” Charlie gestured behind her.
“No, the one by the bathroom. But he wasn’t there, so I went looking. Then I got lost.” A fresh wave of tears spilled over.
“Hmmm.” Charlie stood up. “What does he look like? Sometimes dads get confused. Let’
s see if we can find him closer to where the bathroom is.”
I reached for her hand, and she gave it to me, and to my surprise, she reached for Charlie’s too. He took it, and the sight of that little hand in his big one squeezed my heart. “I think Charlie is right,” I said. “I bet he meant the wall over there where the ladies room is. You’re a big girl, using the ladies room all by yourself.”
We led her across the lobby and as soon as we got close to the opposite side, a voice rang out. “Ruby!”
“Daddy!” The little girl dropped our hands and took off running.
A harried-looking man in maybe his early forties rushed over and scooped her up. “Oh my God, there you are.” She clung to his neck, her small feet dangling. Over her shoulder, he said, “Thank you so much. She went into the bathroom and I realized she didn’t have her coat. I ran back to the seats to grab it and she must have come out before I got back.” He set her down and held up a little pink dress coat. “Here, honey.” Ruby slipped her arms into the sleeves.
“No problem. It’s crowded here tonight.” I smiled at the relieved dad. “Good thing Charlie noticed her over there.”
He straightened and offered his hand to Charlie, who shook it firmly. “Thank you so much. This single dad stuff is new to me. I’m still learning.”
“No problem. Glad to help.”
“Do you have kids?” The guy looked from me to Charlie.
“No, no. We’re just friends,” Charlie said quickly.
Too quickly.
“Right, this isn’t even a date,” I added.
The guy looked like he understood. “A date. What’s that?” He shook his head, laughed ruefully, and helped his daughter button up her coat. “Well, thanks again. Ruby, what do you say?”
“Thank you,” she stated dutifully.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie and I said together. I leaned down to her. “Keep dancing, OK? I bet you’ll be up there someday.”
She beamed at me, and her father sent me a grateful look as he took her hand. “Have a good night.”
We made our way outside, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. “We can walk if you want. It’s pretty close.”
“Sounds good.”
He was quiet as we started the trek down Woodward toward Elizabeth. “How’d you happen to see that little girl? Sixth sense as a cop?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
“You were very sweet with her.”
“I have a soft spot for little girls, I guess.”
“Ha!” I elbowed him in the gut. “Guess that must have developed after you abducted my hamster.”
“Are you ever gonna let me live that down?” He threw an arm around my neck and squeezed. “It’s been twenty years!”
I laughed. “No. Some things aren’t forgivable.”
“Don’t say that.” He let go of me.
“Charlie, I was just teasing, come on.” Slipping my arm through his, I took his hand. “I forgive you for the hamster-napping, OK? I absolve you.”
“What about my other crimes against humanity?”
“Hmm. I can’t speak to those, I suppose.” We turned the corner and headed down Elizabeth toward Park. “But your criminal past is behind you, right?”
“Guess that depends on your definition of crime.”
I glanced at him, squeezing his hand. “Hey, you’re way too serious here. I was trying to give you a compliment for once. You were very nice to that little girl.”
Finally, he smiled. “Thanks. A compliment from you, that is pretty rare. Usually you’re calling me an asshole.”
We approached the entrance to the thirties-era jazz club, music filtering through the revolving door. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em. And tonight, you’re not an asshole, you’re a very nice guy.”
He caught my elbow, yanking me back against him before I could get in the door. “Don’t count on that. The night is young.”
Yes, it was.
Two surprisingly interesting things happened the night I took Charlie to the ballet. Well, three if you count the blowjob, which I suppose wasn’t that surprising, although quite interesting. But that happened later. (Don’t worry, I’ll give details.)
The first thing was that Charlie kissed me. He’d kissed me before, of course, first in my kitchen doorway on Thanksgiving, then later on the stairs. And there was lots of kissing on the picnic blanket in front of the fire last weekend. Frantic, frenzied, fuck-me-now kissing that made the world spin faster and the floors tilt and set every cell in my body on fire.
But the kiss at Cliff Bell’s wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.
The restored speakeasy was dimly lit by wall sconces and lamps that all seemed to glow with the colors of firelight somehow—gold and orange and scarlet, but subdued, rather than bright. The club was crowded, no tables open, and just a single seat along the bar. I sat down, and Charlie stood beside me. We ordered drinks and listened to the live music, and the strangest feeling started to overtake me. Actually it was less a feeling than an awareness of things beginning to change between Charlie and me.
It began when I noticed how close he stood behind me, closer than the space between barstools demanded. His torso was warm against my back, and every time I pictured him in that gray suit, my heart tripped. Then there was the way he leaned in to whisper when he wanted to say something, some little comment about a song or a soloist or the art deco decor. He’d put a hand on my right shoulder and place his lips at my left ear, the soft brush of his breath on my skin sending a shiver down my arms. Eventually he just left his hand on that shoulder…then slid it down my arm…then slipped it beneath my arm to wrap around my waist. Surprised, I went still for a moment. This was not non-date behavior, was it? If he could, I could.
I placed my hand over his and turned my head, looking back at him over my left shoulder. If he kisses me, this is a date.
He didn’t even hesitate. Pressing his lips to mine, he held them there, and a moment later I felt his fingers beneath my chin in the sweetest gesture I could have imagined. Actually, I couldn’t have imagined it. Not from Charlie.
But this kiss was nothing like our others. Nothing frenetic or rushed or overwrought. No spinning or tilting or crashing. No tongues or teeth clashing. In fact, I’m not even sure we breathed. This kiss had such a lovely stillness about it, a tenderness that had been missing, that I was scared a breath might break the spell. It was fragile and guileless and pure, something to be protected.
His lips were cool at first, chilled by the ice in his gin and tonic. Mine were too, from the crisp, bubbly champagne in my glass. But it took only seconds for our lips to grow warm, heated by touch, by thought, by feeling. My entire body grew warm, actually. My hand pressed his to my stomach, my toes curled inside my shoes, and heat prickled across my back inside my dress.
What on earth was this?
Applause for a song that ended broke out, and Charlie lifted his lips from mine. But just a few inches, and he kept his fingers beneath my chin.
I turned in my chair to face him, letting my head fall back. He kissed me once more, another slow, sweet lullaby of a kiss. Something is happening, I thought. Something good.
So good that I didn’t want to examine it any closer, didn’t want to look behind the curtain. Whatever magic this was felt too good to last, so I was just going to enjoy it. A moment later, Charlie picked up his head.
“Ready to go?”
His kiss had been soft, but something else was in his eyes now. Something harder, edgier. Darker. Something that made my insides tremble and my panties wet. “Yes.”
Charlie paid the bill, and we left our drinks on the bar half-finished. Taking my hand, he pulled me quickly toward the door.
“Charlie,” I said breathlessly, once we’d rushed through the revolving door. “I have my car here.”
He didn’t stop moving though, and I could barely keep up in my heels. “Just come with me.”
We raced through the chilly dark to the lot
where he was parked, and Charlie opened the passenger door for me. I slid into the front seat, glancing into the back and wondering if he was planning on parking in a dark alley and tossing me back there.
I’d have done it.
Charlie got in and started the car, tore out of the lot and swerved quickly around Grand Circus Park, turning onto Washington. I had to hold onto the dash, he was driving so fast. I wanted to know where he was taking me, but something told me not to ask.
In front of the Westin Book Cadillac, he looped around and pulled up to valet parking. The uniformed attendant opened my door and I stepped out, moving closer to the heaters above the glass entrance. My pulse raced as Charlie spoke to the valet and then strode toward me. He took my hand and pulled me into the hotel. “Wait here,” he said in the lobby, pointing to the elevators.
Oh, fuck. My legs jittered while I waited, watching him approach the reservations desk, chat briefly with the employee, and hand over his credit card.
Oh my God, oh my God. He’s really getting a room.
I’d gone on a few trips with boyfriends before, carefully planned trips up north or weekends in Chicago, but I’d never been so hot for someone or had someone so hot for me that we couldn’t even wait until we got home. On a Thursday night! I hadn’t finished my champagne, but my blood fizzed as if I’d drunk an entire bottle.
A few agonizing minutes later, he appeared again, stepping past me to punch the up arrow. He said nothing, just took my hand when the doors opened. Another couple stepped in when we did, and as the elevator rose, so did the tension. By the time we stepped out on the twenty-seventh floor, I was strung so tight, I thought one word, one look from Charlie could snap me. As we rushed down the hall, I unbuttoned my coat.
At our room, Charlie slipped the key card into the slot and held the door open for me. I stepped past him, but before I got three feet inside, he grabbed me around the waist so roughly I gasped, dropping my clutch. Holding me tight, he turned to face the door, which slammed shut, leaving us in total darkness.
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