After my talk with Mindy this morning the day continues to drag. I can’t focus and find myself staring into space for most of the afternoon. Trying to clear the tangle of thoughts clouding my mind, I decide to head over to Bikram Yoga NYC for a class after work. There is nothing like ninety minutes of twisting your body into the most unnatural positions imaginable in one hundred and four degree heat with forty percent humidity to give you new focus.
The first time I took a class with my friend Tina I thought she was insane for even suggesting it. Only a masochist could enjoy such punishment, but I gave it a try, not wanting to be the weak whiny friend. When the class was over and after I gulped down an entire gallon of water to replace what was lost from the sweat that spilled down my body in waves I actually felt really freaking good. My muscles ached and my face and chest were stained blotchy red. I was sticky and smelly and my yoga shorts were so far up my ass I could almost guarantee there was cheek showing but I didn’t care. I was riding the endorphin wave and feeling oh-so-good. I was hooked and have been since, attending at least 3 classes a week whenever I can.
Class tonight is no different. I grunt and twist and sweat and then sweat some more. I don’t think of Braydon or the stress of trying to find an apartment. Instead, I close off my mind and just focus on the delicious pull of my muscles. By the end of class I feel fantastic. I’m buzzing with so much energy by the time I get home that I decide it’s the perfect time to start going through my things in the apartment. Toss the junk, donate what I don’t use anymore, but is still in good condition and box up the items I plan to take with me. I convince myself that I am feeling more optimistic about my future and begin to look forward to finally getting into a new apartment and truly making it my own. This place was Braydon’s before I got here and while it’s clean and comfortable it never fully felt like mine.
After a quick shower I head to the kitchen to grab a few trash bags before making my way back to the bedroom closet I shared with Braydon. It’s on the small side, but we have managed to make everything fit if you ignore the fact that removing items could put you at risk. It is like playing a game of Jenga, pull on the wrong sweater and the whole stack could possibly come crashing down.
Sitting crossed legged on the floor at the threshold I decide my safest option is to start with the shoes and boxes at the bottom. I can always get one of my sisters or even Braydon to come and help with the top shelves later. Pulling shoeboxes out and checking under the lids I realize this may be a bigger task than I anticipated. I’m really leaving. At that thought I feel my yoga high start to wane. Letting out a big yawn I shift my legs out from under me to stretch - hoping the change in position will wake me up a bit - but it doesn’t help. As I continue to fade doubts begin to creep back in.
Can I really do this?
Giving up on the closet, I stand and make my way over to the bed. Drawing the sheets back I pause, a sense of loss wrapping around me before finally climbing in. In a matter of just an hour I went from optimistic to feeling completely defeated. The lingering soreness of my limbs, which usually comes with a nod of accomplishment, isn’t enough to bring me out of my newfound funk. Crawling under the covers I sink down into the cool sheets hoping to find solace in its comfort, but it is as fleeting as my many moods today. Letting my eyes wander from the blue walls that surround me to the mismatched furniture and then up to the gently whirring ceiling fan, I try to pinpoint exactly what it is that I am going to miss about this place. What is making me feel so heavy hearted?
The most honest conclusion I can come to is that it’s not this place or even Braydon that I will miss. What I am going to miss desperately is a sense of belonging. I have my family and I know they are there for me, but it’s not the same thing as having a partner, that one person who knows you completely. Having someone by your side to share your day with, to vent to when your angry, laugh with when you’re being silly and feel content with when you’re happy. Even if my relationship with Braydon was just a mirage that resembled the real thing it at least made me feel as if I did belong.
Mindy’s words echo in my mind reminding me that maybe I don’t have to do this alone. Henry lives in the area I am looking to move to. I’ve never really given him much consideration, whether it was because I had a boyfriend or because he is just so quiet I’m not sure, but now I cant help but think of him and smile just a little. Although my smile may just be because of Mindy’s comment on his dick size, but can you blame a girl? I’m young and newly single and I enjoy dicks! Don’t get me wrong though, just because I am now full on picturing Henry’s todger, I have no expectations of jumping into a relationship. I’m not stupid enough to think a new boyfriend will make everything better. I understand that it’s going to take time to get myself settled before I can even think about starting something new. Lord knows I don’t know the first thing about Henry but that doesn’t mean I can’t think about certain parts of his anatomy just for shits and giggles. At least it is helping to get the negative depressing thoughts out of my head so I can finally drift off to sleep.
Chapter Three
“Hi, Kate,” I hear a familiar voice coming from behind me.
Turning around in the narrow hallway that leads from my office to the main reception area, I see Henry standing behind me.
“Oh, hi, Henry. How are you?” I ask with a friendly smile.
“Good, thanks.
As I am about to turn back around and walk the remaining distance to my office, I am caught off guard when Henry continues to speak. A polite hello or goodbye is usually the only interaction I have with him, so the fact that he is getting ready to say more has me intrigued.
With his head down, averting direct eye contact, he continues, “So… umm… I was chatting with Mindy yesterday, and she mentioned you and your boyfriend broke up. I hope you don’t mind that she told me, but she also said you were looking to move possibly to Brooklyn Heights. I actually live in the neighborhood and thought maybe I could be of help. Maybe offer you a tour? We have a great coffee shop, and everything of importance is within walking distance of it.”
To be honest, the first thing that pops into my head is to decline, but then I think about how miserable I felt last night and my conversation with Mindy. This is my chance to start over, and even though Henry may not be my type, it would be nice to have a friend in my new neighborhood.
“You know what? That sounds fantastic.”
At my response, Henry finally looks up at me, and our eyes connect. He has the goofiest grin on his face, and it makes my tummy tingle for the slightest moment.
Where the hell did that come from?
I am a bit taken aback by my reaction and blame it all on the thoughts that Mindy has been putting into my head or more exactly the dirty thoughts that I have been creating based on Mindy’s speculation. I almost want to glance down and check out the front of his pants to see if what I imaged last night has any basis in reality, but figure that would be inappropriate for a work setting so I keep focused on his face.
Behind those black-rimmed glasses, Henry has the most mesmerizing blue eyes, accompanied by long, dark eyelashes. They are so deep they could almost be mistaken for black if not for the specks of cobalt. They are the color of the sea, illuminated by the moon late at night. It is a shame he keeps his eyes averted so often. I could get lost in eyes like his.
Just then, Henry reaches up to adjust his glasses, and I take that moment to give him another once-over. He is taller than me, at least six-feet compared to my five-foot-five. And I am surprised to notice he has very large, masculine hands. I would expect to see slim, delicate fingers since he spends most of his days sitting at his computer, yet his hands are clearly not afraid of hard work. They look like hands powerful enough to direct pleasure while simultaneously appearing gentle enough to caress and show tenderness. Hands that I wouldn’t mind having all over my skin.
Taking a peek again at his body, I try to see past the average clothes—black slacks and white, cotton button-down—to wha
t may lie behind them. Henry has a slim build, nothing like Braydon. He may not have been the greatest boyfriend, but he had a body that could rival any of my current book boyfriends: all sharp angles, cut muscles, and enough power to exert his dominance in the sexiest of ways.
Now that I am really looking at Henry, it is easy to tell that he either works out or has an active lifestyle. The sleeves of his shirt hug his arms, showing there is definite definition to them.
Right as my eyes begin to trail down to check out his lower half, since I clearly can’t resist taking a peak, I hear Henry clear his throat. With a blink and a slight shake of my head, I am back to reality, and by the look of anticipation on Henry’s face, I must have missed something he said.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
“I said, how about we meet up for that coffee Saturday morning, say about ten a.m.?”
This time, I respond without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
***
Three days and five apartment viewings later, I have finally settled on ‘the one.’ It is a lovely, albeit tiny, apartment on Love Lane. The name couldn’t be more apropos, and finding it couldn’t have come soon enough.
Living with Braydon has been anything but easy. Even though our break up was fairly amicable, you can still cut the tension with a knife. We have been dancing around each other since the breakup, cautious with each word spoken. Thankfully, Braydon has been respectful enough not to have Candy over, but I can tell he is getting restless by my continued presence.
The new apartment won’t be ready to move into for another week, since the landlord needs time to paint and refinish the floors, so I have been trying my hardest to spend as much time as I can out with friends or shopping for all those little things, like soap dispensers and dish towels, that I will need once I move.
Sitting in the conference room at our weekly office roundtable meeting, I spot Henry in a seat down at the end of the long table, looking at me. When our eyes meet, he gives me a sweet smile and a nod in greeting. I nod back, and wouldn’t you know it, the little tingle in my belly returns along with something else I equate to nerves.
I know I should be ecstatic about the new apartment, which I am mostly, but I am also oddly terrified about my coffee date with Henry tomorrow morning. Ever since I accepted the invitation, I have seen a different side to Henry.
He has always been polite—saying hello and goodbye when we pass—but now it is as if his confidence has grown exponentially in my presence. I am not saying we have heartfelt, deep conversations, but he is actually making eye contact now. His smile seems brighter; his eyes sparkle just a little more, and the cherry on top, the cutest, most devilish, little smirk has made an appearance on his face.
Another surprise is the images of Henry that keep popping into my mind at the most random times. His deep blue eyes, those strong hands—hell, even those black glasses have made an appearance. It is all becoming a bit obscene.
Yesterday, as we were chatting about the various apartment locations and the pros and cons of each one, that smirk made its first appearance. I mentioned that my top contender was the apartment located on Love Lane, and that smile nearly melted my panties right off. It was adorable, blazing with a mix of elation and want. I may have even taken advantage of that smirk last night, after Braydon decided he’d had enough of the awkwardness between us and went over to Candy’s.
Sitting up in bed with my back against the headboard and once again looking over the lease agreement for Love Lane, I grinned all over again as Henry’s sexy smile invaded my mind. Seeing as I was alone, and it had been quite some time since my body had felt anything remotely pleasurable, I decided to let instinct take over.
Tossing the papers aside, I slipped down on the bed until my head hit the pillow. Then I slid my right hand down my torso and tentatively brushed a delicate finger over my cotton boy shorts, already feeling how wet I was. With my fingers ready and my body thrumming with anticipation, I decided to get more comfortable, first pulling off my tank top then sliding my panties down my toned legs. With a flick of my foot, I tossed my panties across the room. Completely nude, my heated skin was flush with the cool sheets.
Closing my eyes tightly, I imagined it was Henry’s hand that was touching me, his strong fingers swiping down my slit, and I let out a gasp of pleasure. As much as I wanted to reach that release quickly, I knew that, if I slowed things down, it would feel that much more amazing. God, did I miss that feeling.
With long lazy strokes I took my time, relishing the feel with each pass. Visions of deep blue eyes behind black glasses infiltrated my mind. Parting my lips, I dipped two fingers inside to gather my wetness before slowly working my way up to my clit where I began to gently tease my nub. I spread my legs even farther apart then lifted my hips and rubbed deeper with my right hand as my left traveled over my belly until finally reaching its intended destination. Exquisite chills having taken over my entire body.
Pinching the peaked nipple on my right breast, I imagined Henry above me, his strong arms holding him up as his head dipped down to take my nipple into his mouth. The combined sensation was enough to throw me over the edge, my body absorbing the pleasure from my hands.
After I came down from the high of my climax, I was trying to figure out just how Henry had gone from merely a distant co-worker to the object of my nightly fantasies in a matter of days.
Chapter Four
Waking up early, my body is vibrating with nervous anticipation. I didn’t get the chance to talk with Henry yesterday after the all-day meeting. I am eager to tell him that I signed the lease for the apartment on Love Lane. The thought of his happy reaction is enough to make me pick up my pace so I’m not late.
After showering, moisturizing with an SPF protectant—the sun is a killer on my fair skin—and adding a swipe of blush to my cheeks, I decide to go for a comfy casual look since it is going to be another hot, July day. I pull on a pair of black, linen shorts; a coral-colored tank that may or may not be a bit too tight across my chest and my favorite pair of black TOMS. The only thing left to do is toss my hair up in a ponytail; grab my sunglasses, cell phone, keys; and I am out the door.
Taking the subway from my current apartment in Queens over to Brooklyn takes just under thirty minutes at this time of day, my excitement building with each stop along the way.
As I catch my first glimpse of Henry standing in front of the Brew House, reading something on his phone, I have the sudden urge to run over to him, excited to tell him my news. Instead, I take a deep breath and gather my composure before he notices me. Taking the slow walk across the street, trying to look as casual as possible, it feels as if my racing heart will make it to the other side before I do.
I never had this experience with Braydon—the excitement of going on a first date—although technically, this is more of a friends thing than a date. Whatever, same difference. I was immature, drunk, and horny back then with Braydon, so I am trying to memorize each and every feeling now and not take it for granted.
Along with my racing heart, my sweaty palms are going to make holding on to my coffee cup a dangerous proposition, not to mention the somersaults in my tummy, which will, without a doubt, make it difficult to even drink the coffee.
Stepping up onto the curb, that damn smile of his nearly knocks me on my ass as Henry finally looks up to take notice of me. With a grin of my own to rival his, I step closer into his space, the desire to claim his lips pulsing through my veins with each rapid beat of my heart. The only thing preventing me from going for it is my deep craving to do this the right way. I don’t want a repeat of my relationship with Braydon, not that I think Henry would even let it go that far.
“Hey, stranger, perfect timing. The tour is just about to get underway,” he greets with that delicious smirk.
“Lead the way,” I say gesturing for Henry to begin.
Opening the door to the coffee shop, Henry motions me inside with a playful bow. Once at the counter, he begins to order
, and my jaw nearly falls to the floor when he recites my favorite drink with ease. I turn my head and simply stare at him.
“What?”
I look from him to the girl behind the counter who is also smiling as Henry goes on.
“I have sat in the same weekly roundtable meetings with you every Friday for the last six months. Your coffee order hasn’t changed once in that entire time.”
“Oh, well, thanks for noticing,” I reply, feeling the warmth creep into my cheeks. I am flattered by his attentiveness but not all that surprised.
After our coffees are ready, we make our way outside again and begin to walk down the street, nodding our good mornings to those passing by. This really is a great part of Brooklyn, and I can’t be more relieved and excited that I found my apartment.
Wanting to get to know Henry better, I take the opportunity to dig a little. “So, tell me something about yourself. I don’t really know much except what you do at work.”
“Well, let’s see… I’m twenty-six; my favorite color is green; and I like football, beer, and pizza, all in that order.”
“I’m more partial to yellow, but green’s not too bad. Better than red. I hate the color red,” I say in all seriousness. “There has to be more to you than that. What about parents, siblings, any pets?”
“Sadly, none of the above.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I feel like I am intruding now but far too intrigued to learn all I can about Henry’s life to stop my line of questions.
“It’s okay. Really,” Henry goes on. “I’m coming to realize it hurts less the more I talk about her.”
Her? That word brings a sickening feeling to my stomach. Is he still hung up on a past girlfriend? Maybe that’s why he is so quiet. Have I been reading him wrong all this time?
With my head down now, I ask, “Who?”
“My mom,” Henry replies with a somber tone as my head snaps back up to look at him.
Lucky: A Love Lane Short Page 2