The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  “Well, I'm still not interested. If things don't work out between Lucian and me, then I don't want anything to do with the lifestyle ever again.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “That's a pity. It can be really fun.” She grins.

  “To each her own.”

  “Indeed. Well, I need to get to bed. You should try to get some rest too.” She pats my shoulder and stands.

  “Yeah. Easier said than done.” I look up at her, a bit sad that our talk is over. I know she needs sleep though, and so do I. It's going to be another long day tomorrow. A day that I'm sure will be mostly spent thinking about Lucian.

  ***

  Despite our conversation from the night before, there are no new emails from Lucian in my inbox. Perhaps he has decided to abandon the project after all. With all the low blows I threw at him, I wouldn't be surprised. We left each other angry, and that's never a good thing.

  Now that I'm at work, I'm back in the mode of thinking that I should have just gone along with whatever Lucian wanted until his interior design contract was over. That would have been using him though, and I know it's not right. I'd like to think that's not who I am, but I'm not so sure anymore. This is the first time in a very long time that I feel like I've lost my identity. Lucian has screwed me up so badly that I don't even recognize the face staring back at me when I look in the mirror anymore.

  Perhaps the fight was a good thing. Maybe I should be happy about it. Not long ago, I wanted to get away from him, and now it seems that I have.

  Hours of no actual work makes me dwell on last night's conversation for most of the work day. There's an intense feeling of guilt inside of me that won't go away. At the very least, I need to apologize for some of the things that I said to him.

  Right before lunch, I break down and send him a text message. “Hey, I just wanted to apologize for last night. I feel so horrible about some of the things I said. I do care about you greatly, and I was just upset. Please forgive me.”

  After sending it, I cringe at how mushy and desperate it sounded. Whether I'd like to admit it or not, my heart doesn't want to let him go. I'm in love with one of the worst men that I could possibly be in love with, and I feel like I can't do a damned thing about it.

  “Trouble in paradise again?” Derrick asks as he brings his lunch to my desk to eat with me.

  “When is there not?” I sigh.

  “I don't think Reddick is going to finish the contract.” He unwraps his sandwich, sounding strangely solemn.

  I know he's thinking about the loss of the bonus. I should probably be thinking about it too, but the only thing that matters right now is soothing my aching heart. Money takes a backseat to that.

  “I don't think he is either,” I admit.

  “Still not answering your emails?”

  “Nope.” I pull my peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my lunch bag, then sadly smirk at the thought that I wouldn't be eating it had I signed Lucian's contract. Too many carbs, too much fat, too much sugar. For some reason, that makes the first bite all the more satisfying.

  “Did you at least talk to him about the contract?” Derrick peers at me over his sandwich.

  Just talking about this stuff makes me feel emotionally exhausted, but it's far better than discussing what happened between Lucian and I last night. “I did speak to him about it.”

  “And?”

  “He seemed disinterested.” Just like he seemed disinterested in me when the taxi came to pick me up. My appetite suddenly disappears, and I feel myself slipping back into a deep depression.

  “Oh well. I suppose...I don't know what I suppose.” Derrick puts his sandwich down to open a small bag of chips.

  “I don't know either. I don't know anything anymore.”

  “Hey, are you alright?” He bends slightly to catch my gaze.

  “No.” My eyes begin to water.

  “That bad, huh?” He gives me a sympathetic look, and I simply nod in reply. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I just want this day to be over so that I can fix things.”

  ***

  By the time I get off from work, Lucian has responded to my text message. It simply says, “Apology accepted.”

  Somehow, that still feels so cold to me. Maybe I'm just over-analyzing things, but I can almost sense the dismissiveness in his words. Has he really forgiven me?

  I rush home, throw my purse on the bar, grab my cell phone, and head to my room, dialing his number while I walk. To be honest, I don't really expect him to answer, but to my surprise, he does.

  “What is it, Amy?” he sounds annoyed, which makes me cower.

  “I just wanted to talk to you.” I carefully lower myself down onto my bed before kicking off my heels.

  “So talk.”

  “Do you have time? You're not busy, are you?” I bite my bottom lip, now feeling guilty for calling him, like I'm bothering him.

  “I'm on my way home from work.”

  A car horn honks in the background as if to acknowledge that he's telling the truth.

  “Are you in the limo?”

  “No. I drive myself to work most of the time.”

  “It's not safe for you to drive and be on the phone at the same time,” I mumble.

  “Hands-free.”

  “Oh. Well...” I pause, filling the line with silence. Even though I'm the one who called him, I'm waiting for him to say something. He doesn't though, ever distant. “I really am sorry about last night. I think I overreacted a little.”

  “A little,” he huffs.

  “I said I'm sorry, okay.” I knit my eyebrows and draw my hand up to my face, feeling the frustration building.

  “You're sorry and yet you called to yell at me some more. Nice,” he hisses.

  “That's not it. I called because I miss the sound of your voice. I called because I miss you.” Emotions spill out of my mouth like water from a faucet. Everything I'm saying is so raw that it makes me want to cry. I'm baring my heart to him, being vulnerable, ready to take whatever punishment he wants to dish out.

  “I miss you too,” his tone softens, and I feel the first twinge of hope that things might be alright.

  “Come over. Please. Let me make this up to you. I'll cook and we can discuss things and...I just...I need to see you.”

  For a few moments, the line is quiet. I wait with baited breath for his response, my heart pounding in my ears. If he rejects me, I'll know it's over—I know I'll spend the rest of the night crying.

  “I'll be over in a few minutes,” he says finally.

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathe into the phone, realizing how incredibly pathetic it sounds but not really caring. “What do you want me to make?”

  “We can order in.”

  “No, I want to cook for you.” Even though I suck at it.

  “Don't argue with me while I'm driving. We'll order in,” annoyance returns to his voice with a hint of dominance.

  Click.

  I set my phone down on my lap and stare at it for several minutes. Lucian seemed reluctant about coming over...and really grumpy too. I hope that everything will be alright.

  After taking a moment to recompose myself, I rush to the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup. If I had more time, I would change into something sexy for him—something that would seduce him back into my arms. As it is, I don't want to take the chance of making him wait when he knocks at the door.

  I shrug off the gray suit jacket I'm wearing and frown at my blue capris and white button up blouse. Not very sexy at all. More business than casual. Oh well, he's never really cared about what I wore before. Everything is easy access in Lucian Reddick's hands.

  Since he won't allow me to cook for him, I go to the refrigerator and pull out a bottle of wine instead, uncorking it and filling two glasses. I quickly take a sip from my glass and then walk into the living room, standing there invitingly with the two glasses for a moment before it dawns on me that I won't be able to open the door with m
y hands full. Good God, am I ever nervous.

  On my way back to the kitchen, the doorbell rings. I break into a power walk to set the glasses down, then I run back to the door, pausing in front of it briefly to smooth out my outfit before I open it.

  Lucian is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. There's an iciness that seems to waft in, radiating from him. Even though he sounded relieved that I wanted to patch things up with him, there's no sign of that now. His eyes bore into me like daggers seeking to destroy my soul. They reach my heart and cause a twinge of pain the second that I realize...

  He's not happy to see me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “I poured us some wine.” I smile, trying my hardest to pretend not to notice the look of disdain on Lucian's face.

  “Trying to kill me now?” He grunts.

  “What?” My expression contorts in confusion.

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I'm sorry, it's just been a long day.”

  “Well, come in and I'll make it better.” I gesture for him to enter my apartment.

  He takes a few quick strides to get to my living room, then just stands there with his arms wrapped around himself. It seems like he's putting up some kind of protective wall. I've never seen him act like this before.

  I walk into the kitchen to retrieve our glasses of wine, then return to offer him his. He stares down at my hand as if it's a snake waiting to strike. Hesitantly, he takes the glass from me.

  “So tell me about your day.” I do my best to remain chipper. Maybe if I'm kind to him, patching things up will go a lot smoother.

  “Is that really what you called me over here for?” He watches the bubbles in the glass. It hurts that he won't look at me, that he's being so cold.

  “I told you why I called you over here. I want to make things better.” I take a deep breath and approach him, resting my head against his chest.

  The part of me that feels like I know him expects him to take me into his arms. He doesn't though, and it makes my heart ache. It's like I'm trying to cuddle a statue. He's unmoving, uncaring.

  “Today isn't the best day for that.” He disengages from me, taking a few steps away to set his glass on the bar.

  “Well then, we could get together tomorrow,” I suggest.

  “I'm busy tomorrow.”

  “Sunday?”

  “And Sunday as well.” He turns his head but doesn't look at me. “It's today or not at all. That's the only reason why I'm here.”

  “Then let's make the most of today.” I walk up behind him and put my hands on his shoulders, kneading into his muscles. They feel like steel beneath my fingertips, so tense that I doubt I'm doing him much good.

  He sighs, gazing down at his wine glass. His body begins to relax, and I pray to God that I'm making some leeway. Instead of speaking, I just continue to rub his shoulders, then move down to his back. Giving him a massage while he's standing is awkward, but I'm not about to stop. He deserves at least this much from me.

  “I lost a patient today,” his voice is so low that it's barely audible.

  “What?” I pause, unable to fathom the weight of what he's saying.

  He inhales deeply and lifts his face towards the ceiling. “She was an older lady, a long time patient of mine. She came in for her third facelift. I wanted to do IV sedation on her, but she insisted on general anesthesia because she wanted to make damn sure she didn't remember any of it. She went into cardiac arrest in the middle of the procedure. I did everything that I could, but...”

  My hands are trembling against his back and I can't fight the tears that are coming to my eyes. They're not for the lady who died though, they're for Lucian. I can't imagine having to bear such an emotional burden. He was right, this isn't a good time to be discussing our relationship. He should have just gone straight home and did whatever he needed to do to get over this.

  “It wasn't your fault, Lucian,” is all that I can think of to say, and I know it's not good enough.

  “I know, but that doesn't make it any easier.” He turns to me and our eyes meet. The level of pain that I see staring back at me makes me suck up my own sorrow and go into pampering mode. All I can think about is making him feel better. I just wish I knew how.

  “Come sit down.” I set my glass of wine next to his and then take him by the hand to lead him to the sofa.

  We sit together in silence for several minutes, staring out into nothing. There are so many questions I want to ask him about what happened, but I know now isn't the time for curiosity. Desperately, I try to think of anything that I can do to help him, but my mind keeps coming up blank.

  “What do you want to eat?” I ask, glancing down at his knee.

  Today he's wearing gray slacks and a white button-down shirt and a gray silk tie. I would probably be lusting over him if the mood wasn't so grim. It's a big time hormone kill, but that doesn't really matter right now. All that matters is making sure he's going to be alright.

  “You can order us whatever you want. I'm not really hungry, which is why I didn't want you to cook.”

  “Oh.” I wish he would have just told me that over the phone. Then again, I can understand why this was something better said in person.

  I reach up to smooth down his hair before caressing his face, drawing his attention to me. “Tonight is all about you, alright. We're going to do whatever you want to do. We don't have to do anything at all. We don't have to talk about what happened last night. We can just sit here if that's what you want.”

  A solemn smile creases his lips and he takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Amy. I appreciate it.”

  “Would you like to watch television? We have the History Channel.” Keeping his mind distracted would probably be the best thing.

  “Sure. Mind if I take my shoes off?” He begins taking them off before even waiting for my reply.

  “Get comfortable.” I reach forward and grab the remote off of the coffee table, flipping on the television and cycling through to the History Channel, since I don't have it memorized.

  There's a documentary on Nostradamus. I'm sure it's going to bore me to death, but I don't really care. I'm just happy that Lucian came over and that hopefully we can do some healing, even if we don't discuss things.

  Once Lucian has his shoes off, he brings his feet up onto the couch. It takes me a second to realize that he wants to lie down and use my lap as a pillow. I mirthfully oblige, scooting to the far edge of the sofa.

  Understanding that he probably doesn't want to talk anymore, I lean back and try to focus on the show. There are several historians discussing the four-hundred-year-old prophecy of the Roman Popes. Just listening to them yammering on about something I care nothing about is making me sleepy. Lazily, I rake my fingertips through Lucian's hair, hoping to soothe him.

  Just before sleep is about to take me, I glance down to check on Lucian. To my surprise, he's staring up at me. His eyes are hooded though not with exhaustion.

  Very slowly, he begins to sit up, his face tilted towards mine. I smile softly before leaning down to kiss him, our lips tenderly molding together.

  He rises the rest of the way and scoots over next to me, his arm sneaking around my back to pull me against him. I don't resist, completely lost in the moment. My core heats up like someone just flipped a switch. Knowing that he's so emotionally vulnerable does something to me, makes me feel a deeper desire for him.

  His fingertips gently whisper across my cheek, and I lean into his touch, moaning softly. When he kisses me this time, it's deeper, more urgent. My fingers almost instinctively move to loosen his tie. I need to feel his body on top of mine. Good God, do I ever need this.

  I break free from the kiss, my hand sliding down the front of his silk tie. “We should go to my room.”

  “Should we?” he asks, a hint of the man I knew before breathed back into his voice.

  “Mhm.” I nod, standing and curling my fingers around his tie to lead him to my r
oom. He follows obediently, keeping close. At one point, he accidentally steps on my heel, but it just makes me giggle, though laughing feels inappropriate given what he just shared with me.

  By the time we make it to my room, he's all lust. He turns me around and cages me in his arms, kissing me passionately. I'm surprised that he doesn't even take a second to look around. He's only interested in me.

  I catch my breath as he unbuttons my blouse, my eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his chest. As soon as his arms are out of the way, I finish taking off his tie. Then I remove his shirt.

  In a matter of minutes, we're both naked. He sits on the edge of my bed and pulls me on top of him. I straddle him, desperate to feel him inside of me.

  I'm not sure if our bodies have ever joined more quickly, but I'm loving it. I toss my head back and moan as I move on top of him, feeling his thickness spreading me. He kisses my throat and gropes my breasts, his hips writhing.

  I squeak as he tosses me down onto the bed, crawling between my legs. I hook them around his hips and gasp when he drives into me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding onto him while he pushes us both towards oblivion. The sex is needy and intense. He thrusts into me with long deep strokes, causing a tiny bite of pleasure-pain every time he reaches the limits of my body. I whimper softly, gently pressing my teeth into his shoulder.

  Knowing that I haven't lost him, my heart is so full of love that I'm drunk on it. I don't even need the wine.

  Lucian picks up the pace, and I blush in embarrassment as my bed gives protest. Occasionally my headboard hits the wall. My neighbors must hate me right now. Serves them right though. I can remember all the times I've had to listen to them having sex. Now it's my turn. It's a silly thing to think about, but that's apartment life for you.

  “Oh yeah,” I whisper as I feel the friction building at my core. “Don't stop.”

  “I won't,” Lucian reassures me, clumsily kissing my lips before returning his focus on the task at hand.