by Eva Sloan
I looked down at my now unrecognizable self. I’d need more than luck to pull this off
*****
Ten minutes is a long time. Long enough to remember I had a doctor’s appointment in two days, long enough to play an entire White Snake song over in my head. Long enough to think, “God I hope this guy isn’t another freak!”
There was a harsh beating at the door and I jumped. Had to be him. Hope he didn’t breakdown my door before I got the safety chain off.
But what stood before me when I opened my door made me week in the knees. Greasy slicked back black hair, a polyester leisure suit and enough patruly to choke a rhino. And like a true refugee from the seventies he leaned in and gave me the eye, which made my skin crawl.
I’d let Bess pluck and curl me for over an hour for this looser!
“So what’s shaking, Trisha?”
I was about to slap him for the principle of it when I noticed he’d called me Trisha. “Trisha’s down the hall, second door on the left.” I smiled and thought poor Trisha as I slammed shut and locked my door, contemplating just taking off the dress and burning it, and then showering until I felt like myself again.
But no sooner did I reach back to find the damn zipper than there was another, not nearly as aggressive knock at my door. Oh god, I thought shaking my head. It could be the boogey man. Would just be my luck.
Suck it up. I heard Bess’ voice in my head. He’s a goddamn stud--I should’ve kept him for myself!--but I saved him just for you.
I was suddenly wondering if Bess had had my apartment wired for sound with an intercom.
Now go get him!
I smiled. No it wasn’t Bess, but it was definitely her sentiment.
I pulled myself together, walked all two steps to the door, undid the safety chain again and took a deep breath. I swung the door open and there stood the most handsome man you could imagine. Dark eyes, neatly clipped dark brown hair, a gorgeous smile ... tall, broad shouldered, and achingly well dressed in a casual sport coat and a cornflower blue button down shirt, that stretched enticingly over a nice broad chest.
I hoped I wasn’t drooling.
“Hi,” he said extending his hand to me. “I’m Dean, Dean Coulter.”
I slipped my hand into his and he squeezed just enough to send sparks through my central nervous system. “I’m yours.” I shook my head as what I’d said dawned on me. “I mean, I’m Lucy.” I blushed. I couldn’t even believe I was having those thoughts only thirty seconds after meeting this guy.
His smile deepened and he suppressed a laugh, then he placed a small brown paper bag in my hand. His eyebrow lifted, “Bess said they were your favorite, and you could only have one before we left for the restaurant.”
I opened the sack to find it filled with a half dozen or so snicker doodle cookies--my all time favorite since I was a kid.
“That is if I get one too.” he teased.
“Not a chance, wise guy.” I suddenly sounded like Bess. This made him smile all the more. His handsome mug accented by heart-swooning dimples. I took a cookie out and acted like I was about to bite into it, but instead I raised it to his lips--he took it in his teeth like a big sexy golden retriever.
I started giggling as he raised his hand up to take hold of the cookie, and then tore off a bite. I never giggle, but of course I never had such purely wanton thoughts about a perfect stranger. I took out a cookie for myself and set the bag on the table by the door. “Good boy,” I said in my best Bess voice again, closing the door behind us.
Where the hell was this coming from?
We strolled down the hallway to the elevator happily chewing on our cookies.
“You know, we’re probably ruining our appetites,” Dean said.
“Eating the whole bag by myself couldn’t ruin my appetite right now.” I was starting to get a kick out of the stuff that was coming out of my mouth.
Dean pushed the button for the elevator and we stood there waiting--my gaze swept over him, from his beautiful face to his broad shoulders and chest, down over his flat stomach and then a little lower. I shook my head at how brazen I was being, checking out this guy’s package, what, less than two minute into our blind date?
When I looked back up he was silently chuckling. He’d caught me checking him out, and was acting like he hadn’t seen a thing. What a gentleman.
*****
Chapter 10
We rode the elevator down to the first floor and he held the door open for me. When we got outside I saw he had a cab waiting for us. He opened my door for me and helped me inside--my heels suddenly made my descent into the cab awkward and I accidentally fell into his chest as I navigated the curb. He smelled great. Cologne bottled in heaven and winged down by angels...hot, sexy angels.
He held me up as I regained my footing and without a word helped me into the cab. Ten minutes later the cab stopped on Monroe Street, right in front of my favorite restaurant: Dicalla’s. The pasta was superb and the Tiramisu was to die for.
“Is there anything Bess didn’t tell you? Stacking the deck on the first date is an unfair advantage.” I playfully dug my index finger into his ribs. He grabbed my hand, obviously ticklish, and we sat there for a long moment, our faces inches apart.
“Advantage is everything,” he said, “and I’m sure there are a few things she left for me to find out for myself.”
I started feeling all warm and dizzy. I was pretty sure that if he kissed me I would’ve kissed him right back...hell, I would’ve let him take me right back to my apartment and ravage me on my couch if he wanted.
He smiled as if he could hear my thoughts, then turned away to open the cab door. The cool night air felt good as we stepped out of the cab, helping me calm myself and get a hold of my racing mind. Of course I hadn’t a hope to calm my boiling hormones.
Smooth. He knew to bribe the host--this wasn’t the matra d sort of establishment, but it did have a hefty wait. We were seated in three minutes flat. I wasn’t sure whether Dean had an actual reservation or not. Either way, I had a glass of red wine in front of me and the waiter was taking our order before we could even start small talk.
And that’s where the date suddenly stalled. I knew nothing about him. And obviously what he knew about me had been used up already. It was time for that “Brave New World” part of the date, yet neither of us seemed all that anxious to dive in to it.
Finally I remembered that Bess had told what he did for a living. “So you’re a doctor?”
He sort of grimaced when I said it, and then shook his head. “I told Bess to keep that under wraps.”
“Why?” I was suddenly aware he was really uncomfortable.
“I just wanted to see how it would be to go on a date where the lady didn’t have some preconceived notion about me.”
“Like?” I liked how the color rose on the sides of his neck.
“A lot of women hear doctor and think ... well they think --”
“Loaded. Rich.”
“Yeah. And I’m still paying on my student loans.” He suddenly got this look on his face. Deer in headlights kind of thing. “Not that I’m talking about you ...”
“No offense taken. I see it all the time at the hospital.”
“You work at St Vincent’s?”
“No, St Luke’s. I’m a physical therapist.”
Dean’s eyes suddenly lit up and his regular coloring came back immediately.
“I’m a surgeon.”
I thought for a moment, Oh great, I’m on a date with a narcissistic asshole -- but he seemed so normal.
“I’m an orthopedic surgeon.”
Now it was my turn to light up. I got along great with bone doctors. Suddenly we started talking shop, which was way better than talking about Bess or not having anything at all to talk about. We talked trash on some of the quacks practicing in the area; we bandied about the usual most interesting patients--where I got to share my recent cocktail waitress patient with the set of new, titanic boobs.
; “I should’ve had her give me some pointers on how to wear them, myself, I said, pointing down to my shoes. “I about keeled over trying to get into the cab.”
“I barely even noticed,” he said looking deep into my eyes.
I suddenly had a flash back to how he smelled, how his chest felt through his shirt. I took a long drink from my water glass, and then had a long sip of my wine. The way he was looking at me was driving me wild.
Suddenly the waiter was back with our salads...and fried mozzarella...and fried Zucchini...and garlic bread topped with mozzarella. I didn’t realize that I’d ordered so much food. It was what I usually ordered when Bess and I came here to binge, usually after a really bad week or Bess breaking up with a current boyfriend.
So much for looking like a dainty flower.
“Let’s dig in,” Dean said passing me the fried zucchini.
I smiled as he dug his teeth into an ooey-gooey wedge of fried cheese. I got the feeling that he didn’t give a damn what a date ate, which was refreshing, and lucky since I usually get ravenous when I’m nervous.
We were talking about the newest jarvex joint replacement when the entrees came. We hadn’t even finished all the appetizers yet.
“I like the action of the shoulder,” I said raising a forkful of manicotti to my mouth, “but the hip isn’t nearly as good as the Sinkling.”
“Really?” Dean was dipping some garlic bread in his fettuccini Alfredo. “I prefer the Steel light. I know it doesn’t have as long a shelf life, but I find patients recover and are walking that afternoon.”
“Yeah, but then about a year later they’re having trouble, coming back to us thinking we can help.”
Dean put down his fork. “You mean they don’t even get five years out of it?” He looked aghast.
“Usually they’re headed back for replacement procedures less than two years later. And by then they usually have to have the other hip replaced too, having to use it so much to compensate. They just don't’ want to go back under the knife.”
“So you really think the Sinkling is worth the recuperation time?”
I suddenly got another hot flash. He was actually really listening to me.
“They may need an extra couple weeks of therapy at first, but I never have them bounce back on me. “
He was giving me this look--it was making me really uncomfortable. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head. “It’s just I don’t find that people on first dates ever really say what they mean.”
“Sorry...didn’t get the memo.”
“No, don’t be sorry. It’s great.” Then he started really looking at me with some heat, making me feel hot all over. “Beautiful and smart. Remind me to send Bess flowers tomorrow.”
Me too.
*****
We had the cab driver let us off a few blocks from my apartment building. We walked slow and leisurely, in a happy sort of fog. And for the second time that week I didn’t recognize my own apartment building, walking past it to hear Dean say, “Lucy, isn’t this your building?”
I turned around to find Dean standing in front of my door, an infuriatingly sexy grin on his face--I was amusing him!
“I should’ve been a blonde,” I said strolling back to him, glancing up from the pavement to steal glimpses of his pretty eyes. Like melted chocolate.
“I had a great time...” he purred.
“Me too... maybe we could --”
“How about dinner on Friday? I know this great Indian place--terrible service, but the lamb curry is excellent.”
Friday was only two days away...I was suddenly afraid I would combust into flames if I went that long before seeing him again. “Sounds good.” I moved closer, drawn to him like a mouth to a flame. “How are their deserts?” I looked up into his eyes and felt kind of dizzy. Everything, the noises on the street, the passing cars and people, just melted away.
He inched forward and suddenly our faces were inches apart. “There’s a great little ice cream parlor just around the corner. It’ll cool off our taste buds after the curry.”
We stood there staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed an hour. Slowly, so very slowly, he leaned into me and kissed me. Lightly at first, his hands behind his back, then as our lips entwined and he slipped his tongue gently into my mouth his hands reached out and pulled me to him. He tasted wonderful--a mix of tiramisu and something I couldn’t put my finger on. His strong body felt divine as he crushed me to him.
Oh god, don’t let this end.
Just when I thought I was going to lose my mind from blind lust he pulled away, excruciatingly pulling his lips from mine.
“I better go,” he said, breathing hard as if he’d been running. “Or we’re both going to be late for work tomorrow.” And just like that he reached out for the door to my apartment building and held it open for me, not taking his eyes off me as I walked inside and moved toward the elevator.
I looked behind me and saw him staring at me like the sexiest puppy on the face of the earth. As I moved into the elevator and pressed my floor, the last thing I saw as the doors closed was his smile.
Damn...
*****
My dream was different this time. I was kissing Dean in front of my apartment building one moment, and the next Gus was rubbing me all over on my bed, his strong, soft hands kneading away every kink, fanning my internal fire with every caress. More Dean kissing me, that look he’d given me when I went inside, like he wanted to devour me. Then Gus was pushing me over on my back, his hands gliding over my flesh, my breast, squeezing them into mounds and roughing my nipples with his thumbs.
As he moved up atop of me, his manhood rubbing and sliding up my thigh, his face flickered, and as he pushed himself into me his face changed into Dean’s. He leaned down and kissed me, that same exotic taste on his lips as he pushed into me...
*****
By the time my alarm went off I was lying with my face in the mattress, my head down at the footboard of my bed, my sheets both wrapped around me in knots and wet. I was covered in sweat, exhausted, and my flesh was burning again.
I untangled myself from my bedclothes and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Standing with the refrigerator door open I drank cold water from a jug of drinking water. I couldn’t drink enough. Finally I went to the bathroom and pulled my wet nightshirt off, an old AC-DC t-shirt, and dropped it to puddle on the floor.
The cold water didn’t do anything to relieve the heat in my skin. If anything it made it worse, the heat intensifying and then accumulating between my legs. I suddenly wished I’d bought one of those shower attachments with Bess when I’d had the chance.
My phone was ringing when I got out of the shower. I looked at the number, hoping it would be unknown--then it might be Dean--but it was Bess. I flopped on my back on the couch and answered with an exhausted groan.
“Sounds like you had a fun night.” Bess chuckled on the other end of the line. “Is he still there?”
“You’re such a perve...he didn’t spend the night.”
“He left right after! Didn’t peg him as a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type.”
“We didn’t have sex...but the way he kissed me when we said goodnight...”
“You would have said...?”
I smiled, feeling the heat intensify all over, especially in my face.
“I would’ve bagged him and tagged him,” she said. “But in your case I guess it’s good you two didn’t fuck on the first date...there is going to be a second date?”
“Friday.”
“Make sure you shave your legs tonight--don’t want pieces of toilet paper all over you when you too finally do it.”
“What makes you so sure I’m going to sleep with him on the next date?”
“No reason. I can just hear it in your voice. You’re in lust, cupcake. And it’s about time.”
*****
By some miracle the next day, I made it to work on time. I was sure once I started out for work I would los
e track of where I was going, but as if on auto-pilot I steered my way through foot-traffic and across busy intersections without even thinking about them. What I was thinking about was Dean and that heart-stopping kiss. That look in his eyes.
I was troubled too by the dream. Not that I’d transposed Dean into my sex dream, but that I was still having sex dreams at all about Gus. He’s gay! I kept telling myself. Let it go!
But the weirdest thing by far that day happened when I got to work. All the guys were clustered in the back by the electro pulse machine, and they didn’t look happy. And as soon as I turned the corner to check appointments at the front desk I saw them--Nicole and this skinny, short, pale little man with glasses and a pocket protector. And Nicole was all over him. Not in the R-rated sense, but she was smiling and laughing and touching him as she spoke to him.
His cheeks and ears were crimson from the attention.
I could tell my fellow male co-workers were beside themselves with grief. Hot chick starts at work, and before any of them (all ex-high-school-jocks) can score, or even get to second base, a nerd with a pocket protector snags the hot cheerleader.
I smiled as I waved to my wounded co-workers.
I watched as Nicole leaned in and whispered something into the nerd’s ear. The rest of him got as red as his ears and he looked like he was about to explode--or shoot straight up into the air like a cruise missile.
He was still smiling ear to ear as he staggered out of the physical therapy department.
“What was that about?” I asked.
Nicole looked up from her charts and smiled. “That’s Lonny from accounting.”
“Now the pocket protector makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is why you were flirting so hard with him?”
“What do you mean?” She didn’t look offended--she barely looked up from her chart.
“I didn’t think he’d be your type, that‘s all.”
“Oh, you think I’d be interested in a rich doctor or one of those Cro-Magnon frat boys here?” She glanced their way and rolled her eyes. “Not a chance.”