KYRA and I sit in our office all day, our favorite Pandora station playing quietly in the corner as we input information into our computers. I have not seen Owen once today, and that sad reality settles heavily in my stomach. Once or twice another man walks by. He eyes Kyra with an impish grin and even once pops in and asks us if we need anything. Kyra bats her lashes at him and eventually excuses herself to the restroom. When she comes back, her cheeks are flush and she’s fanning herself with a piece of memo paper.
“Jason,” she swoons to me, leaning down over her desk. “That’s Jason and he asked me out tonight.”
I can see she is eager and excited. She always manages to be enthusiastic each time she goes out with a new guy and I wonder how she isn’t dreading it. They always end up being assholes, I think to myself. But then again, she’s doing it and that’s more than I can say for myself.
“You can’t meet Mr. Right if you don’t go through a few Mr. Right Now’s!” she says while reapplying lipstick, as if reading my thoughts. “But listen, he works for my Dad’s right-hand man. I don’t think my Dad would approve,” she says, lowering her eyes. “So, when I go out tonight, you can’t tell him who I’m really with if he asks.”
Oh shit. I don’t want to lie for her, not to Owen.
“What will you tell him?” I ask, hoping her lie is so airtight that I’m not even asked about who she is really with.
“Going out with my swim team.”
I nod. It sounds good enough to me; that’s who she was with on Friday evening and he seemed to have very few questions.
“Hey,” she pauses her lipstick application and turns to me. “Want me to see if he has a friend?”
I should probably say yes.
I should probably try and meet someone… finally.
I can’t be a virgin forever.
It’s just, well, when I was around Jason in the office, I felt nothing. Zero attraction. In fact, his cheesy grin and cheap cologne kind of annoyed me. In the few minutes he was talking to Kyra in our office, he’d already managed to tell her he owns a vacation house in Lake Tahoe and drives a Porsche. It felt kind of silly, truthfully, because her own Dad was filthy rich.
“Next time, maybe,” I smile and put my head back down to the computer screen, inputting numbers quietly while I wait for her to turn away. Just let it go, I think to myself and then, relief, she turns back.
Still, I don’t see Owen the entire day. I stay stuffed into the tiny office with Kyra, who filters in and out all day, doing God only knows what. When the clock strikes 5pm, she has her purse over her shoulder and is standing in the doorway, tapping her toe anxiously.
“Ready?” her eyebrows are raised as if I’m making her late and she’s straining to be patient. I push the button under the computer screen and it goes dark. A full day of work at a real job. An office job. I smile to myself as I tuck my chair into the desk.
“You’ll have a desk when you’re a teacher,” Kyra says. Damn she knows me so well.
The elevator doors pull open and we step inside, two other business men in black suits are also stepping in with us.
“Ladies,” one of the men tips his head to us and I see his eyes trace the lines of my feet all the way to my thighs. I shudder. This is why I’m a virgin, I think to myself. I never feel flattered when I’m ogled, I never feel attracted to the guys my age, either. Maybe I’m broken from such a disastrous childhood.
“Hold the lift, please,” Owen’s romantic inflection cuts through the two men and finds my ears, perking up my spirits. I can’t help but give him a full smile as he walks in and looks at me, and then I bow my head. Too much, I think to myself. Reel it in a bit, my inner voice adds.
He moves to the back of the elevator and stands directly behind me and Kyra. She is engrossed in her cell phone and oblivious to her father being behind us. The doors pull closed and we begin the descent towards the lobby, but I’m not used to wearing these heels so when the elevator jerks to a halt to pick up more eager passengers, I lose my footing and start to stumble forward.
Then something happens.
Owen’s hand reaches out and grabs hold of my hip, pulling me back to him. I wobble on the heels and my body falls back into his; he is strong and tall so my weight doesn’t make him falter. Embarrassed, I reach behind me and find the elevator wall, pushing myself out of his space back onto my feet. I can feel that he is robust and sturdy under his fitted navy suit and he is slow to release his grip on my waist. Though I know my cheeks are blazing with embarrassment, I turn around partially to face him.
“I’m sorry, thank you,” my voice is almost inaudible.
His eyes look different. They are fixed on mine, dark and rousing, and I can hear his breathing as his chest gently rises and falls. What is this?
My inner voice is even somewhat confused. Hmmm. I’m not sure what this is, she calls back to me.
I turn around and face the front of the elevator. The charge between our bodies is so thick I am near paralyzed by it. I can feel my nipples grow hard against the silk blouse and there is a puddle forming at the apex of my thighs. We step out into the lobby and Kyra turns around to face her Dad.
“I’m going out for a drink and some dinner with the swim team. I’ll be home later. Do you think you could give Elizabeth a ride home?”
What? What! What? WHAT! I thought she’d be going out later. I had no idea that she was leaving straight from work. My eyes go wide and she nods nervously at me.
Okay. Get it together. You’ve promised to go along with this.
“I can Uber,” I offer, turning around to see Owen for the first time since our moment on the elevator. He furrows his brow, an expression I’ve seen him make a few times since Friday, and then impassively says: “Nonsense. We’re going to the same place.”
My cheeks flush and I give a small, accepting smile.
We say our brief goodbyes to Kyra and she leaves, leaving Owen and I to walk through the long, dark parking garage alone.
“Elizabeth,” he says to me, his voice saying my name almost melts me.
“You know, you’re not an imposition of any kind.”
What he is saying is unexpected and I’m not sure what’s brought it on.
“I appreciate it, all of your hospitality,” I say, feeling my body ache under my blouse as I walk just inches from him. He gives me a cool smile and draws his phone from his back pocket where he swipes and types for a moment before his car rolls forward, turning and stopping right in front of us.
“I’ll never get used to that,” I say again, my mouth agape at the beautiful car and insanely cool technology.
Sliding into the passenger seat, the door closes itself and I watch Owen make his way around the front of the car. He looks in through the windshield at me once as he passes. A warmth surges through me and I can feel my wetness seep into my panties. Do not get this seat wet. Do not! My body of course will not follow my commands and I can feel my nipples react to him, getting even harder. His delicious scent enraptures me as he starts the car, glancing at me once before pulling out of the parking garage, the sunlight pouring in across my legs.
“Didn’t feel like going out?” he speaks, finally, cutting the silence between us after a few minutes.
“I don’t really go out,” I say, speaking the truth.
“Why not?” his voice is calm and quiet and for a moment it feels as if we are together, having a normal conversation, so natural and easy.
“Just not really my scene, I guess.”
“What do you do when Kyra goes out, you know, when you’re away at school?”
He’s interested in my interests. “Read, mostly.”
“What type of things do you read?” he looks over at me again and my heart skitters in my chest.
“Classics, mostly. Some modern fiction. Occasionally a thriller. And, romance,” I say, feeling quite brave that I’ve said this to him. I poke my chin upwards, turn my face slightly and give him the tiniest of smiles.
“Do you read?” I ask, immediately feeling quite stupid because of course he reads. “I’m sorry,” I sputter, “that was a dumb question.”
“Why?”
“Well, I mean, Kyra’s told me you like to read and obviously a smart man such as yourself doesn’t sit around watching TV.”
I turn to face the window, the busy city streets whipping by as the car takes us closer to his house.
He is silent for the rest of the drive. Being with him is so intense; I’m starved for him and when his lays his eyes on me I feel seen, important. And, I also feel achy everywhere. Oh everywhere, it all throbs. All I can think of is getting up to my room to take a nice long bath and relieve all of this… tension.
“THANK you very much for the ride, Mr. Bolling,” I say, passing through the kitchen and heading towards the stairs.
“Elizabeth,” he calls after me quietly. “Marie is making a wonderful meal tonight. Seven o’clock.”
Oh shit. Is this a dinner invitation if it’s his house where I’m staying? I don’t let my inner voice ruin this one. It IS a dinner invitation; I think to myself.
“Thank you, I’ll be down at seven.”
The need for a hot bath increases as I climb the stairs, my thighs creating a friction that worsens my throbbing needs.